


Wrapped in Honey

by lady emebalia (emebalia)



Series: Honey [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creature Sam, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobia, Homophobic John, Kidnapped Dean, M/M, Mild Gore, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 97,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emebalia/pseuds/lady%20emebalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a monster who wants to buy himself somebody to feed on. Lucky him, Dean's on sale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam didn't like the Food Market. He saw the necessity of it in a place like this with a high population of beings feeding on humans but that didn't mean he liked the idea.

Maybe it was because his needs didn't kill the human in question or that he needed him to be a willing participant, however, it was just wrong to buy humans like bread in a supermarket.

Snatched all over the country – runaways, homeless people, illegals, people nobody would miss, people nobody cared about – and carted here so the monsters could feast without drawing attention to themselves.

So far Sam had always relied on his own seducing skills, finding a willing partner whenever he needed one, but that was time-consuming and didn't always end the way he was hoping for. And hunger was a dangerous companion. Making one desperate and sloppy.

Maybe it was time for a constant food supply.

Sam entered the unmarked side-entrance of a building that claimed to be an insurance company. Closing the door behind him, he found himself in a short hallway with a guard blocking the door at the other end.

For a second they sized each other up but then the man stepped aside and made an inviting gesture.

"First time, sir?" He asked politely. The man wasn't human, that much was clear, probably a werewolf from the pack running this place.

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded. This was a bad idea he should turn and just leave. Instead he stepped closer.

"Alright, sir." The man opened the door which led to a staircase. "Just go one floor down, Mr. Briggs will be right there for you."

Sam mumbled a "thanks" and distantly heard the man talking into his radio, announcing the arrival of a customer.

By the time Sam reached the only door at the bottom of the stairs another man, Mr. Briggs he guessed, already waited for him.

They shook hands, his hand warm and doughy in Sam's, and Mr. Briggs didn't waste a minute before he started his spiel.

Since Sam was a first time customer he got the whole speech. Mr. Briggs assured him that this was completely save, no police would come to look for the cargo and Sam wouldn't catch any disease from consuming it. Not once did he call them _human_ or _people_ , always cargo.

"Discreet, clean and safe." Mr. Briggs finished his speech with his slogan.

Sam bit back the comment on his tongue and told himself that he should at least have a look. If he bought one before he ended as vampire chow, that was a good thing, right?

It was hypocritical, that was what it was, and he knew it. He wasn't better than a vamp or a were no matter how hard he tried to convince himself. Thinking about it, he was worse. The others who actually ate their victims did so at least rather quickly. Sam was looking for a long-term solution.

"So, Mr. Campbell." The man rubbed his hands like a cheap salesman. Which he technically was. "What are you looking for today?"

"Male." Sam answered. "Between twenty and thirty. Attractive." He kept it simple because he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. He needed to see the man.

With the wide spectrum of beings the Food Market supplied with fresh humans they had a similar wide spectrum of humans available at all times, Sam knew that and he was pretty sure that he would find what he was looking for.

"We have a few of those in stock." Mr. Briggs led the way to what Sam assumed was the showing area; long corridors with windows on the sides, five to ten people in each cell. Women, men, children, all sorted in nice little boxes.

"Why the windows?" Sam asked while he followed Mr. Briggs down the aisle. Most of the prisoners sat on the floor on simple mats, looking everywhere but the two men outside.

"At first we had bars. We have a spell in place to prevent them from escaping or attacking us but that don't keep them from throwing the contents of the waste buckets at customers." He shrugged. "This is more hygienic and it keeps the noise down."

Now Sam noticed how quiet it was. There must have been hundreds of humans in these cells but Sam only heard soft voices in the distance, more likely other customers than prisoners.

"Left, sir." Mr. Briggs directed Sam down another aisle. "You should have a look at F/5-8."

When they reached cell number five in corridor F Mr. Briggs pressed a buzzer next to the window and the men inside the cell hurried to stand up and to form a line. Sam didn't want to think about how they'd been trained to do that.

Instead he had a long look at every one of them but in the end he shook his head. One or two were handsome, no question about that, well built and quite his type but it didn't click.

"Not what I'm looking for."

"How about one of these?" Mr. Briggs stepped over to the next cell.

Sam was about to follow him when one of the prisoners lifted his head and for a second their eyes met. The man didn't look away and tried to stare him down instead. Pretty face and amazingly green eyes but it was the intensity of the stare that got Sam's attention.

"Can I have a closer look at this one?" He pointed at the man who still tried to burn holes into his skull.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had just enough time to go from _what the fuck_ when the dart bit in his neck to _I'm screwed_ before he lost consciousness. He didn't feel it when he hit the ground.

He woke up in a dim container with other people who were just as confused as he was.

Hit with a tranq dart, woke up here, end of story. Nobody had seen their attackers, nobody knew why they'd been taken or where they were going.

There were thirteen of them.

They were inside a container, pretty sure on a truck judging by the noises, but Dean's guess was as good as anybody else's.

Looking around Dean doubted they were held to ransom. For himself he knew this couldn't be about money. There was only one person who cared if he lived or died and would do whatever he could to help Dean but Bobby wasn't rich by any means.

Dean himself was lucky when he hustled enough money to pay for gas, food and a cheap motel room and more often than not he had to skip the room and sleep in his car. And he couldn't remember the last time he had three meals a day on a regular basis.

The others seemed to come from a similar background. Worn clothes, people in need of a shower and a shave and eyes that knew hunger.

"I've a bad feeling about this." Dean muttered under his breath and got an affirmative murmur from the man sitting next to him.

"Think they'll come looking for us?" The man asked but the way he said it he knew there was nobody coming looking for him.

There just was nobody and Dean got the feeling that was the whole point.

When the truck finally stopped they hurried to get to their feet and crowded in the back, eyes on the doors.

Dean squinted against the sudden brightness when the doors opened.

"Out!" Somebody bellowed and reluctantly they climbed out of the container. The truck stood in some kind of garage with the door down and the doors in the back closed, probably locked.

Three butch men with tranq guns guarded them while another man and a woman stood a little at the side. Between them they held a man in white shirt and pants who struggled in their grip but couldn't break their hold. He was crying and begging but his two captors didn't pay him any attention.

Dean swallowed, this was so not good, and focused on the three men ushering them forward.

"Attention!" The one to his left yelled, a beefy guy with no neck. "From now on you do what we say. No questions, no shit."

He glared at them for a moment to let the words sink in.

"You get one and only one warning, so you better learn this lesson quickly." He grinned and behind him the two dragged their prisoner forward. "You pull some shit a second time, this is what's gonna happen."

Like a circus director he stepped aside, giving the newcomers a good view on the show.

A collective gasp went through the crowd when the fangs and claws came out.

They froze in terror when the man and the woman ripped the poor guy apart.

"No, no, no, no."

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw somebody breaking out of the crowd. A young man, maybe even only a teenager. He was knocked down after three steps.

"This is your first warning." The man towering over the teen on the ground snarled. "Now back in line or you're next."

Hands reached for him, pulling him back into the deceiving safety of the crowd.

They had to form a line and were then led through a door. They past the two creatures who still had blood on their faces and hands, the woman was chewing on something she'd ripped out of the body.

The heart, Dean's mind helpfully supplied but he didn't dare to have a closer look.

What came after that was lost in a blur. They had to strip and shower, all together in one big shower room, but Dean's mind was too numb to even register if the person next to him was male or female.

Still naked and in front of everybody Dean had the most humiliating examination ever before he was declared healthy. One woman wasn't declared healthy and she left the room through another door than the rest of them. If that was for the better or the worse Dean had no idea.

The journey ended in a cell with a bundle of clothes slapped at his chest and a shove at his back and then the door locked behind him.

Dean hurried to put the pants and the shirt on, simple white just like the other man had worn before it all had turned red. Then he had a look around.

Pretty much a holding cell like every other one but with even less comfort. Sleeping mats on the floor and a bucket in the corner, charming.

"You can have the place over there." One of the other guys pointed at a free mat.

"What are they going to do with us?" Dean asked in the round. He counted seven other men, all around his age and with similar hair and skin color. Through the window in the front he had a good view into the cell across and less good view into the ones on its sides. More people.

"Not much." The same man spoke again. "When the buzzer goes we have to stand in line and let people ogle us. If you get someones interest they take you out to let them have a better look at you. Some come back, most don't."

"So what?" Dean dropped on his mat. "This is some kind of slave market?"

Nobody answered that one.

Dean was taken out for a better look the second day.

He stood in a small room with bare walls and no furniture and waited for the woman he'd seen on the other side of the glass to come in.

He didn't know what to expect and he shifted from one foot to the other to get rid of at least a bit of the tension building up with every second.

In here he had no chance to escape, he knew that by now. They hadn't been joking with the one warning only. But if he got out of here …

He could overpower this woman, he was pretty sure of that, and once he was free he would call the police down on them.

On the other hand, he doubted they would take any chances. Security might be as tight out there as it was in here and here he at least knew what to expect.

He didn't dare to think about what she wanted with him. Labor or sex were the most likely options, though.

When the door finally opened and the woman stepped in Dean straightened up and with that easily towered over her. Which didn't seem to impress her in the slightest.

"My, you are a handsome boy." She stepped closer, fingertips ghosting over his chest. Dean wanted to push her away but for some reason he couldn't lift a finger to do so.

Up close Dean had a good view on her as well. Not the type of woman he'd find attractive but she was pretty in a natural way. However, her eyes were cold and dead.

She made a full circle around him, examining him from every side. Dean clenched his fists and waited until she stood in front of him again.

"I like what I see." She purred and leaned in, hands resting on his chest and her face buried in the crook of his neck.

Did she sniff him? Dean frowned. There it was again, the telltale of air brushing over his skin and for a second her nose tickled him.

"Uhh." She made and abruptly stepped back. Before Dean realized what was happening she was out of the door. "That one's damaged goods, get me another one."

A minute later Dean was back in his cell and could only wonder how she knew.

The next time they had to form the line Dean kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Only when the man outside turned to have a look at another cell he dared to look up.

And their eyes met.

Tall guy, good-looking. If they'd met in a bar Dean would have bought him a drink and probably would have tried to get in his pants but this wasn't a bar and he wasn't here because it was fun.

Dean didn't back off, though, and the guy broke eye contact first. It was a small victory but it was a victory.

Sure enough he found himself in that little room again only minutes later, waiting for that guy to have a closer look. Anger built up in Dean and he wasn't sure if he would start throwing punches or not this time.

When the guy came in he stayed close to the door and only watched Dean for a moment.

"Do you know what this place is?" The man spoke for the first time.

Dean just stared right ahead and didn't answer.

"It's called the Food Market." The man continued. "Vampires buy their lunch here."

Now he stepped closer.

"This is the supermarket for things that only eat human livers, creatures that think your brain is a delicious slurpee." They stood now face to face. Dean's mind swirled with that idea. He didn't want to but he believed this man. Hell, he'd seen that creature woman chomping on a human heart with his own eyes.

"They all buy their humans here." The man spread his arms. "And if nobody buys you, the werewolf pack running this place will have you over for dinner if you know what I mean." He gave Dean a tight smile.

Dean worked to get this dry tongue back under control.

"So, what gives you the kicks?" He tried to sound brave but all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and huddle up in a corner. He was going to die. Eaten alive by a monster.

"Let me guess." He had only his big mouth left, so screw this. "Big guy like you, you ain't picky, you swallow down a man whole. And not in the good way. Am I right?"

"Actually." The man gave him an amused smile, completely ignoring that Dean was shaking in front of him. "You're right. But we are talking the good way here."

Now Dean blinked in confusion.

"I feed on people, yes, but I don't eat them." A hand landed on Dean's shoulder and when he looked the man in the eye he seemed to be sincere. "I feed on sex."

"Of course you do." Dean blurted out and silently cursed his life.

"I'm making you an offer here. Come with me and have sex with me once or twice a month, I won't bother you the rest of the time, promise." He stepped back with his hands raised. "Or stay here and wait for a vamp to drink you dry. Your choice."

Dean tried to laugh at that but the sound got caught in his sandpaper throat.

"What kind of a choice is that?" He coaxed out.

"You coming with me?"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you." He doubted the guy would keep his promise to leave him alone most of the time but it would get him out of here. Buy him some time to find a way to escape.

"Great." The guy grinned at him and then opened the door. "I'm taking this one."

"Wonderful, Mr. Campbell." A man's voice answered but he was out of Dean's line of sight. "Would that be cash or card?"

The door closed behind Mr. Campbell and when it opened the next time it was a guard with a syringe in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam left the Food Market with his freshly purchased human in the passenger seat and a spell in his pocket.

With only one purchase he could pass up the delivery service the Market offered and he had opted for the less humiliating way to get his human home. Drugged up to the grills the man was too out of it to cause any trouble but there enough to get in the car with only a little help.

"I don't even know your name." Sam said with a wistful side glance at the man next to him. Sleeping with his head resting against the glass of the window and slumped down in the seat he looked peaceful but that was an illusion, Sam knew that.

The man was here against his will and Sam intended to keep him. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't just let him go. This man knew too much about the supernatural community, Sam would endanger all of them, himself included, if he let him go.

Sam parked in the garage under the building and led the man to the elevator. He leaned heavily against Sam and for a moment he feared he would have to carry him but the man stayed on his own legs long enough to make it to the upper floor where Sam dumped him on the couch.

In the seventies they had produced furniture in this hall. After the factory went out of business Sam had bought the building and made it his home. The former producing floor became his kitchen and living area, the office rooms on the gallery became bed- and bathrooms. Lots of space and no nosy neighbors, just like Sam liked it.

While the man slept the drugs off on the couch Sam used the time to set up the spell. He'd never dabbled with witchcraft before but Mr. Briggs had assured him that it would work. They used a similar spell at the Market to keep the cargo under control, Sam still hated that word.

The spell activated with a flash of orange light and Sam could only hope that it would prevent the man from leaving and from attacking Sam or hurting himself like it was supposed to. The only other option was to tie him up during the day while Sam was at work and he couldn't do that. And not only because he wouldn't get what he needed that way.

When the man finally stirred Sam had water and a pill for the possible headache ready.

"Take your time." Sam said when the man struggled to sit up. It was meant calming but had the opposite effect. The man's eyes snapped open and he forced himself into a sitting position at the other end of the couch, as far away from the chair Sam was sitting in as possible.

If he'd trusted his legs right now he would be at the other end of the room by now, Sam had no doubt.

"I apologize for the drugs but the other option was to get you delivered here in a box." He shrugged and pushed the glass of water in his direction. "Are you thirsty? Headache?"

Reluctantly the man accepted the water but didn't touch the pill.

"Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then let me go." The man demanded and Sam found himself once again at the receiving end of his glare.

"They gave me a spell that should prevent you from leaving but I've no idea if it works." Sam admitted and nodded towards the elevator in the corner. "Tell you what, try it. If you can leave, you can leave."

The man didn't question it and got up slowly. The drugs still made him slow and it would have been easy for Sam to catch him if he wanted to but what he really wanted to know was if the spell worked. He meant it, if the spell didn't work, the man was free to go. Consequences be damned.

Without letting Sam out of his sight the man went over to the elevator but when the door opened he just stood there. Sam hold his breath.

"I can't." The man finally admitted and his shoulders slumped down. He was only one step from freedom but he couldn't do it, he couldn't cross the line. Sam breathed in relief.

"To be honest I've no idea what I would have done if you were able to leave." Sam said but at the betrayed look he saw on the other man's face he hurried to add: "I always keep my word, I would have let you go but you've no idea what trouble that would have caused in the community." He gestured towards the couch. "Sit down, we need to talk."

For a moment it looked like the man would just stay there, out of stubbornness alone, but his wobbly legs forced him to sit down before he ungracefully fell down.

"What's your name?"

"What do you care?" The man snapped without heat behind the words. His elbows rested on his knees and his head hung between his shoulders.

"I'm Sam Campbell." He introduced himself. "I figured since we're roommates now that we should at least know each other's names." And he'd like to know the name of the man he intended to sleep with on a regular basis but he didn't say that out loud.

Now the man looked up.

"We are not roommates." He spat out the last word.

"You're right. We are not." He had been naive to think it would be that easy.

"You said once a month." The man gathered his strength and pushed himself up again. "Let's get it over with. Where's your bedroom?"

He made it a few steps into the room before he swayed and Sam had to hurry to catch him before he crashed down. With the man's back pressed against Sam's chest he held him upright with strong arms.

"Easy." Sam mumbled and tried to not pay attention to the warm body against his, the firm muscles of the chest under his hands or the globes of the ass against his groin. He'd waited too long for this, the hunger was there and the only thing he wanted to do right now was to bring this man upstairs. Or just back to the couch and fuck him silly there.

But that wouldn't work, not the way he needed it.

"Just do it already, bastard." The man hissed, body rigid in Sam's grip.

In the end it was Sam's hunger that made the decision. He'd wanted to wait, to give the man time to adjust, maybe to even trust Sam a bit before they did this. But now there was only need. He needed to feed even if it was just little bit to take off the edge.

His hand wandered down the man's chest and stomach, flat and smooth under the flimsy shirt.

"Let's start small." He whispered into the man's ear, his hand slipping under the shirt, fingertips caressing the skin just above the waistband.

The man didn't move, didn't say a word. He just stood there and let Sam do whatever he wanted to do.

Sam moved his hand farther down and palmed him through the pants. The flaccid cock didn't raise to the attention, quite the opposite, it seemed to shrivel away under his palm. Sam sighed.

"There is something in my saliva that will get you in the mood." He quietly offered. "May I kiss you?"

The man let out a sob that went through his whole body but then he nodded with determination and angled his head so that Sam could reach his lips.

The kiss was more awkward than anything else but they exchanged saliva and that was all Sam needed at the moment.

Sure enough the man's cock twitched with interest when Sam now ground his palm against the bulge.

"That's better." Sam murmured. It was better and it would feed him, a little, but it was far from good. Far from being the feast he was used to. But that had been with willing partners and not with a man he'd bought against his will.

Sam slipped his hand inside the pants and the man let out a hitched breath but didn't protest.

"Shh, it's okay." Sam lied to himself while he fondled the man's balls. Bringing his other hand down as well he pushed down the pants far enough to have free access.

With one hand he gently rolled his balls in his palm while he started to stroke the cock to full hardness with the other one. By now the man leaned into his chest, weak in the knees by the building pleasure or still because of the drugs in his system Sam didn't want to know.

"Is this good?" He asked but the man didn't answer. His breath came out more harshly by now and now and then his hips bucked into Sam's fist so he figured it wasn't too bad.

Using the perks of his nature Sam knew exactly how this man liked his handjobs and sure enough he had him reduced to a panting mess within minutes.

His head lolled in the crook of Sam's neck and he clawed blindly at Sam in search for support and Sam grinned to that. This could actually work.

His own erection pressed hard against the zipper of his pants and it didn't help that the man ground his ass against him every time he came back from a thrust into Sam's fist. But this was not about his own pleasure.

Sam focused on the task at hand, literally. A little tug at the sac, the right twist in the upstroke, thumb brushing over the head.

"I'm gonna … I'm gonna …" The man writhed in his grip, too far gone to care about the circumstances. One hand found Sam's butt and drew him in, bringing them together even closer. Sam bit his lip and fought against the urge to come right then like a horny teenager.

Seconds later the man spilled his release over Sam's hand. Sam worked him though the shocks, milking every last drop out of him.

"That was good." The man mumbled with a happy sigh. He was completely leaning on Sam now who had no trouble holding the weight.

Sam was still achingly hard but the hunger had lost its edge and that was all that mattered.

He hadn't planned their first time like this so he didn't have a towel handy and had to wipe his hand on his pants. Nor had he planned for them to do it standing and now he had his hands full with the man leaning limply on him.

Carefully Sam tucked him back in and adjusted his hold on him. Then he waited patiently for the man to come back to him. With him feeding on him Sam wasn't worried when it took him several minutes to rise enough to be led over to the couch.

"Why am I so tired?" The words came out slurred but Sam knew what he man was asking.

"I fed on you." Sam answered and helped him lay down on the couch. "It will wear off in a minute."

He was silent for a while and Sam thought he'd fallen asleep. So he almost missed it when the man spoke.

"Dean." He said. "My name is Dean."

"Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean let himself float in the comfy afterglow of a really good orgasm before reality crashed back in.

He was so screwed. Or more exactly, he was about to get screwed.

At least the guy wasn't hard on the eyes and he had just given Dean the best handjob ever but that didn't change the fact that Dean hadn't chosen to have sex with him.

Judging by the hard line of the guy's cock he'd felt against his ass only minutes ago the man was big all over and bottoming wasn't really Dean's thing even when the cock in question didn't belong to Gigantor.

"I know you're awake."

Dean opened his eyes and looked over to the man who watched him from his place in the chair. This was getting old. Dean set up.

"Are we going to do the second round in an actual bed or are just you going to bend me over the couch?" He asked without looking at him.

"Neither." Sam answered. "I was thinking dinner. Are you hungry?"

"But …" That caught Dean by surprise. "You didn't get off."

"Dean." He let out a sigh and leaned forward. "This is not about getting me off. And I'm not going to just bend you over the couch." He threw his words back at Dean but in a gentle tone.

"I'm an Incubus, Dean. I feed on your sexual pleasure. The more you're into it, the more you enjoy it, the better I feed." He paused for a moment while Dean tried to wrap his mind around the new information. "Me getting off would be a bonus, nice but not necessary."

Dean thought about that. "So what, you jack me off once a month and that's it?"

"Not quite." Sam shook his head. "This was barely an appetizer. I'll need more soon. But that can wait a day or two. To get me fed for real I need a full sex session with you in pleasure for hours. Real pleasure, not only a bodily reaction to stimulation." He spread his hands in a helpless manner. "I won't force you, I wouldn't gain anything from that."

"But you can kiss me to get me in the mood." Dean let his disgust drip into the last words.

At least the guy looked guilty at that. Good.

"My saliva has an aphrodisiac effect, that's right." Sam admitted. "However, it doesn't take away your will, you can still say no."

"Yeah, right." Dean let out a bitter laugh. "I'm just not allowed to say no."

"Not in the long run, no. I don't want to bring you back to the Market …" Sam shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable with the way their conversation went. "But you can set the pace, you decide what we do. Look at me, Dean."

He waited for Dean to lock eyes with him.

"I'm an Incubus. I can fulfill your wildest dreams, your darkest desires. If you let me I can be the partner of your dreams."

"If you're such a sex god, why did you have to buy me?" Dean poked a hole into his sweet talk. "You shouldn't have a problem finding somebody to feed on. Try call boys."

For a second it looked like Sam wouldn't answer that one.

"It's always a risk. If somebody finds out I'm not human …" He didn't finish that sentence but Dean had no trouble picturing a mob with pitchforks and torches like in the old Dracula movies. Okay, nowadays they'd come with shotguns but he got the point.

"I knew about the Food Market and I thought I'd give it a try." Sam shrugged. "Being with me beats getting sucked dry by a vampire."

"Yeah." Dean had to admit he had a point there.

"Anyway." Sam stood up. "Dinner? And after that I'll show you your room."

He was going to get his own room?

Dean followed Sam over to the kitchen area.

"I didn't know what you like so I made something simple. You can't go wrong with pasta, right?"

Anything was better than what he'd gotten over the last few days at the Market and with his new found knowledge about that place Dean didn't want to think too closely about the meat they'd been served there.

They ate in almost comfortable silence.

"I'll show you around." Sam put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and then led the way upstairs to the gallery. There wasn't much to show. This was basically a loft so every room with a door and four walls came as a surprise.

"This is my room." Sam pointed at the door on the left but didn't open it. "And this is going to be yours."

He opened the door and let Dean go in first.

A simple room with a bed and a nightstand. White walls and an industrial window which took up almost an entire wall. The same kind of window he'd seen downstairs with the same boring view. More industrial buildings but none of them close enough for anybody to hear him shouting. If they were even still in use, from the distance it was hard to tell.

"The closet is over there." Sam pointed at the door. "I put some of my sweatpants and t-shirts for you in there. I'll get you your own stuff tomorrow."

_You didn't know the size of the man you'd buy,_ Dean thought but bit back the comment.

"And here's your bathroom."

It was tiny without a window but it had everything a bathroom needed and it looked clean which was more than Dean was used to from the cheap motels he usually stayed at.

"A new razor and a toothbrush are in the cabinet with the towels. Just tell me what else you need and I'll get it for you. Anything, just tell me."

Dean nodded to that and they stepped back into the bedroom.

"The door has a key, you can lock it if you want." Sam gestured over to the bedroom door. "I won't come in without your permission but you may feel safer with the door locked."

Oh yeah, he would lock that door, that was for sure.

"Do you want to turn in or do you want to come back downstairs?" Sam asked already standing in the door. "We could watch some TV together."

"I'll stay here." Dean answered and set his jaw, waiting for Sam to order him to come with him.

"Okay. Night, then." Dean couldn't read his expression but Sam didn't say another word, he just shut the door and left him alone. A second later Dean had turned the key.

Dean sat on his bed for hours and watched the minutes ticking by on the alarm clock on the nightstand.

Considering the alternative this wasn't too bad but he was damned if he'd just sit around and play whore for this son of a bitch.

Around eleven he heard Sam coming upstairs and he held his breath in the dark but the footsteps never came close to his door.

He heard a door open and close and a bit later a toilet flushed and then everything went quiet.

Dean waited until two in the morning before he got up and unlocked his door.

The window in his room didn't open, it could only be tilted and there was no way that he'd fit through that gap but there had to be other ways out of the building.

He couldn't use the elevator but he was determined to at least try every possibility.

Dean tiptoed past Sam's room and down the stairs.

The moon was almost full and through the bank of windows came enough light for Dean to see without using the lights. However, these windows weren't meant to open and had only a tiltable part near the ceiling. The only way through them was by breaking them. Which would wake Sam and Dean still didn't know if he could even climb out with that stupid spell in place.

Only a week ago he'd have laughed about the idea of magic and supernatural creatures, now he didn't feel like laughing at all.

The elevator was the main way to get in and out but in the far corner Dean found the door to the stairs. He could open the door, no problem, but then he stood there and couldn't bring himself to step through.

He stood there for minutes, trying to force his body over that stupid threshold but it wouldn't obey.

Swearing under his breath he stepped back and shut the door.

"Okay, plan B."

Plan B was quickly replaced with plan C because there was no phone or computer in sight. Sam must have taken everything Dean could use to call out to somebody with him in his bedroom.

Dean stood in the kitchen and stared at the largest knife in the drawer.

Force that son of a bitch to let him go or kill him, that was the plan. Except that he couldn't bring himself to take the knife.

"This is stupid." He muttered.

A bowl with apples caught his eye and he wondered. Could he use a knife to cut those?

Turned out he could. He had no problem taking the knife as long as his intention was to cut an apple. As soon as he wanted to take it with him to confront Sam, he dropped it.

Leaning on the counter Dean fought against the tears burning in his eyes, this was not fair.

"You should go back to bed." Sam suddenly said behind him.

Dean's first impulse was to grab the knife but like before his body didn't cooperate.

Defeated Dean made his way upstairs without looking at Sam and locked the door behind himself.

He fell fully clothed on the bed and stayed like that until he finally drifted off to sleep.

Dean woke late the next morning and found Sam already up and about in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

"Coffee?" Sam asked and didn't mention their encounter last night. "What do you like for breakfast?"

"Just coffee." Dean accepted the cup from him and for a moment they sat in silence.

"You said I could ask for anything." He said carefully, eyes fixed on the black brew in his cup.

"Sure, whatever you want." Sam agreed easily. "Except for your freedom, of course."

"Yeah, of course." Dean huffed to that. Now he looked up, catching Sam's eyes. "I want a phone call."

That wasn't what Sam had expected, that much was obvious, and Dean's lips twitched to that little victory.

"Who do you want to call?" He asked carefully but didn't refuse it right away.

"A friend of mine." Dean explained, gaining confidence with every second Sam was willing to listen to his request. "I was on my way to his place when …" He trailed off. "Anyway, I want him to know that I won't make it any time soon. And I'd like him to get my car, she's still where I left her."

Sam thought about that for a moment.

"Okay." He finally said.

"Seriously?" Dean had to ask. He hadn't thought that it would be this easy.

"Seriously." Sam repeated with a smile. "On speaker and you don't tell him about me, where you are or anything about how you got here."

"I don't even know where I am." Dean muttered. "But yeah, okay." The conditions hardly come as a surprise, he hadn't expected to get the call at all if he was honest so he took what he could get.

A minute later they sat close together, Sam's phone between them, and listened to the ringing.

"You can try again later." Sam offered when nobody picked up at the other end.

_C'mon, old man,_ Dean thought but was about to hang up when finally a gruff voice answered.

"Singer's Salvage Yard."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Bobby." Dean said and Sam felt a stab of guilt when he heard the wistfulness in the other man's voice. "It's me, Dean."

"Dean, boy, where are you?" The man on the other end sounded gruff but caring. He had been worried. "I'm waiting for you to show up for two days now. No call, no nothing."

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm sorry about that." He threw a glance at Sam. "Listen, something came up. I won't make it to you any time soon."

"Are you in trouble, boy?" The man instantly offered sympathy but Sam couldn't help but hear an unspoken _again_ at the end of his statement.

"I'm fine." Which was a lie but Dean delivered it. "But I'd to leave my car. Could you bring her home?"

Dean didn't even try to say something fishy, probably because of the fact that Sam had his thumb on the button, ready to cut him off.

Dean only gave the address where the man would find his car, three states over.

"Call me if you need anything else, son."

"I will but maybe not too soon." And with that he ended the call.

"Thanks." He said, eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

Sam had to clear his throat. "You're welcome."

Damn, the people on the Market were supposed to have nobody, loners who nobody would miss. But this Bobby clearly cared about Dean, he'd been worried when Dean didn't show up.

"If you want you can call him again." He offered. It was a bad idea but he felt like he had to offer something.

Now Dean lifted his head and pinned him down with that glare of his. "What for?"

Sam didn't have an answer to that. So he hurried to stand up, nervously rubbing his hands on his pants.

"I'm heading out to buy you some stuff. What do you normally wear?" He gestured at Dean's clothes, still the ones he'd been given at the Market. They didn't fit properly and the cheap fabric was so threadbare that Sam could make out the shade of Dean's private parts if he really looked. Not that he did.

Dean only asked for simple things, his own underwear for example, jeans and shirts. It was obvious that Dean didn't like to ask for basic stuff like clothing but he liked the things he was currently wearing less, that much was obvious.

"I'll be back in a few hours." Sam grabbed his jacket and keys. "Make yourself at home, do whatever you like."

He paused in the open doors of the elevator. "I hate to bring this up."

The way Dean's face become an expressionless mask he knew exactly what Sam was about to bring up.

"Today is Saturday, I've to work on Monday." He cleared his throat again, this had been so easy in theory. "I need to feed before that."

Dean crunched his face. "Could you not call it feeding? Jesus."

"Sorry." Sam answered with a gin and then the doors closed. That last reaction gave him hope. This could work.

Sam stayed out longer than he'd intended – why was it so hard to pick out a pair of jeans for Dean? – and when he came home Dean was nowhere in sight.

"I'm home." He announced and when no answer came, he started to worry. What if Dean had found a way to escape?

Sam fought the urge to run upstairs, if Dean was in his room he didn't want to spook him, and put away the groceries first. He'd bought steak and beer for dinner, maybe a good meal would get Dean in the mood.

Then he grabbed the bags with the clothes and headed upstairs.

_Please be there,_ he prayed silently and knocked at Dean's door.

"Dean?" He knocked. "Can I come in?"

He held his breath while he waited for an answer.

"I got you some clothes."

Sam tried to not show his relieve when the door finally opened.

"Try them on, I can return it if something doesn't fit."

Dean took the bags, over his shoulder Sam saw some of his magazines spread over the bed, and then shut the door in Sam's face.

Sam left him alone for the rest of the afternoon but he couldn't help but smile when Dean came downstairs on his own when it was time for dinner. By then Dean had showered and shaved and was wearing some of his new clothes.

"Hope you don't mind that I borrowed these?" He held up the magazines before he placed them back on the table where he'd found them.

"Dean, I mean it, you can use whatever you want." He made a wide gesture around the room. "Read the books and magazines, watch TV, play some pool."

"Playing against myself is boring." But he glanced at the table in the corner as if he'd like to try a game.

"We could play together." Sam suggested. "After dinner. I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Dean winced at that and Sam just wanted to kick himself. The double meaning was completely unintended on his part but to Dean it must feel like just another reminder of his _duty_.

To escape the awkward situation Sam hurried over to the kitchen area and set a pan on the stove. He wasn't a Gordon Ramsay but what he cooked was eatable and so far had kept him fed, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

"What the fuck, man?" Apparently Dean had other ideas. He snatched the steak out of his hand before it hit the pan.

"What?"

"Do you want to ruin a perfectly fine steak?" Shaking his head Dean shoved him aside and took over. "The pan needs to be hot. Really hot. And you need to start the baked potatoes first, they'll take longer than the steaks."

Muttering under his breath Dean sorted through the cupboards until he found the spices. Sam was degraded to wrapping the potatoes in foil while Dean put together some seasoning for the steaks.

"This is really good." Sam had to admit when he had his first bite later.

Dean just rolled his eyes at him.

After dinner they went over to the pool table for a few games and as many beers. It was a rather relaxed evening and Sam didn't mind at all that he got his ass handed to him.

After their third game Dean finished his current beer in one long gulp and then said out of the blue:

"We could do it tonight."

Sam was busy setting the table for his fourth defeat in a row but now he froze and slowly looked up at Dean.

"You sure?"

"No." He fiddled with the bottle in his hand. "But we're kind of in a good mood here and I want to get it over with." He made a helpless gesture.

"Let me grab a quick shower first." Sam agreed. Dean looked everywhere but him, clearly nervous. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Dean nodded to that and Sam hurried upstairs for his shower.

He'd still no idea what Dean liked in bed so he cleaned and prepared himself for every eventuality. When he came out of the bathroom, hair still damp and only wearing sweatpants, Dean waited for him sitting on the bed.

"Okay, how do you want to do this?" Dean stood up, a hard look in his eyes.

"That's not how it works." Sam stepped closer, hesitated but then leaned in and placed a small kiss on Dean's lips.

He kissed him again and this time he got a little response. Dean parted his lips and let him in.

They just kissed for a moment. Sam's hands found their way into Dean's hair and to the small of his back and to his surprise Dean stepped closer willingly, catching Sam's leg between his thighs.

"You can touch me." Sam broke the kiss for a moment when he felt Dean's hands hovering over him without making contact.

Dean hesitated at first but soon enough he had both hands on Sam's back, working his way down to the swell of his butt.

"Damn, you are a good kisser." Dean rested his head in the crook of Sam's neck where he placed little kisses along Sam's jaw line. Sam mirrored his actions.

"Ready to take some clothes off?" He felt Dean's erection grinding against him and by now he was tenting his own pants as well.

Dean nodded and Sam helped him out of his clothes. When they were both naked Sam guided Dean over to the bed where he stretched out.

"Beautiful." Sam admired the view for a moment, well-defined muscles under smooth skin dusted with freckles and the perfect cock erect and leaking just waiting for him.

Dean's eyes traveled up and down Sam's body and Sam could only hope that the approval he read in his expression wasn't only in his own mind.

Sam crawled over him and their lips met in another kiss.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" A kiss, tongue brushing against tongue. "Or do you want to fuck me?"

Now Dean drew back and frowned up at him. "That's an option?"

"Of course it is." Sam locked eyes with him. "Whatever you like." Sensing where this was going, he nipped at Dean's throat. "You'd like that? You buried deep in me? Me hot and tight around you? That's what you want?"

Dean managed a nod and screwed his eyes shut when Sam found his way down to his nipple. Sam smiled around the pebbled flesh.

"You like this, too." He searched blindly for the other one and took the nub between two fingers. Taking his time he pleasured the nipples with tongue, lips and fingers before he blew a last breath over the wet flesh, making Dean shiver, and then trailed farther down.

"Sam." Dean breathed out. "Stop teasing." He buried his hands in Sam's hair and pushed him down to where he needed him.

"You want me to blow you?" Sam lifted his head but kept his hands busy stroking Dean's sides and inner thighs.

"Just do it already." Dean bucked his hips in frustration but Sam felt the waves of pleasure coming from him.

"As you wish." He placed a small kiss on the tip of Dean's cock, tasting the precome, and then dove in in one swift move.

"Holy fuck!" Dean cried out when Sam took him to the root. Sam hold him there for a moment, working him with the muscles of his throat before he needed to come up for air. Tuned in to Dean Sam knew exactly how to take him.

"Sam." Dean tried to hold him back. "Not gonna last."

Impressed that the other man was still able to care Sam looked up at him.

"Good." Was all he said before he went back to work. Minutes later Dean came deep in his throat.

Purring around him, Sam swallowed every last drop before he let go of the spent cock and stretched out next to Dean.

"You didn't tell me you could deep-throat." Dean mumbled.

"I did tell you that I can swallow you whole." Sam reminded him with a grin while Dean's hand found its way to Sam's neglected cock. Sam hadn't planned for this but he gratefully accepted what Dean offered.

"I'm not sure if I'm up for more." Dean admitted, hand lazily working Sam's cock.

"Don't worry." Sam kissed him and let himself get lost in the pleasure for a moment. "We have all night."

After Dean's second mind-blowing orgasm, this time buried deep in Sam's ass, taking Sam with him over the edge, Dean was out like a light.

Sam cleaned them up and drew the blanket over them and then just watch Dean sleep.

He could clearly tell when Dean went from feeding indicated unconsciousness to real sleep. That was when Dean became restless. He turned and tossed in his sleep, even whimpered at one point. Just when Sam was about to wake him from his nightmare Dean woke up on his own.

Panting he lay there in the dark. After a minute he stood up, gathered his things and then left Sam's bedroom.

Sam expected to hear Dean's door but instead he heard noises from downstairs. Thinking about the last night, Sam rolled out of bed and went to go looking for him.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke up panting and sweating and for a moment he had no clue whose bed he was lying in or who the man next to him was. But he didn't actually care. Nor did he care if the guy was awake or not.

Dean got out of bed, searched for his clothes and left the room as quietly as possible. He needed a drink.

Just like the other night the moon was bright enough to light his way so he didn't bother with the lights. Lucky him, Sam had a well stocked bar. Dean helped himself to a stiff drink – Sam had said he should make himself at home, hadn't he? – and then settled on the couch with the bottle in easy reach. He probably needed more than one drink.

Of course Sam had woken up and joined him before Dean had even finished his second drink.

"I'm sorry." Sam said but didn't take away the bottle. "I didn't mean to make it this bad for you."

"Wasn't you." Dean finished his drink and eyed the bottle but decided against another one. "To be honest, that was the best sex I ever had."

They sat in silence and Dean waited for the questions. If it wasn't the sex, what was it then, but Sam didn't ask.

"So this is it?" Dean let his elbows rest on his knees. "We roll in the sheets once a month and the rest of the time we pretend to be best buddies?"

"Pretty much." Sam took his abandoned glass and poured himself a drink.

"For how long?"

"A while." Sam answered without looking at him.

"You mean forever."

Sam finished the drink in one go and set the glass back on the table.

"Is it so bad?" Sam asked.

"It could be worse." Dean had to admit. "But keeping me prisoner here puts a real damper on the whole idea."

Sam didn't say anything to that but Dean didn't expect him to. There was nothing to say.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"I'd like to sit here for a while."

Reluctantly Sam left him alone and for a long time Dean just sat there, staring at the bottle, debating if it was a good idea to get drunk or not. It was his proven remedy when the nightmares took over but in his current situation it probably wasn't the best idea.

He sat there until the sky slowly turned purple with the rising sun, only then he found his way to bed.

Sam let him sleep as long as he wanted but had coffee ready when he finally came downstairs in the late morning.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked and handed him a cup. "If you feel sleepy, that's normal."

_For after you fed off me_ , Dean completed the sentence in his mind and it still sounded wrong.

"Are there any other side effects I should know about?"

"Not really." Sam answered easily. "I'm not taking anything your body can't replace with a bit of time. You'll get used to it and won't even feel anything after a while. As long as your body has time to recover you'll be fine."

"What if you don't give me time to recover?" Dean asked with a challenging eye on Sam.

"You would die." Sam hold his gaze. "But we'll keep it to the bare minimum so no need to worry about that."

After an awkward breakfast, Dean had no idea how to act around the man who'd bought him and with whom he had world shaking sex last night, he declined Sam's offer to spend some time together and excused himself to his room instead.

He couldn't stand it for longer than an hour, though. He stared at the same page of the magazine for minutes without reading it, his mind buzzing with memories.

When he came back downstairs he found Sam lazily stretched out on the couch with his laptop.

"Is it okay if I turn on the TV?" Dean asked after a long moment. He needed something mindless to flood his brain and TV usually did the trick. However, he wasn't sure about the protocol here, he was the prisoner – slave, his mind helpfully provided – and Sam was the boss around here.

"Suit yourself." Sam smiled at him, a little dreamy and with an expression like a cat after it got the cream. Well fed, was the term coming to mind.

This time Dean took the chair and didn't leave it for hours. He didn't care what he was watching as long as it was a constant stream of noises and images overlaying the ones in his head.

He was still tired and at some point he nodded off.

Sam woke him for dinner and after that they had a rather relaxed evening with popcorn, beer and a movie. Dean could almost forget that he wasn't hanging out with a friend but no matter how nice Sam was, he was the one keeping Dean prisoner and that was a fact he could never forget.

The next day was Monday and by the time Dean was up, Sam had already left for work. He had left a note, though.

_Back at 5:30_

_Mi casa es tu casa, I mean it._

_Sam_

Dean made himself a coffee and pondered his options while he slowly nursed the strong brew. When the caffeine started to work, he stood up and put his cup in the dishwasher.

"Okay, you bastard." And with that he searched the whole loft, starting with Sam's bedroom, for something he could use in his advantage.

A way to undo the spell keeping him there would be awesome but he was also looking for any kind of information he could get.

He didn't find anything on the spell, if there was something Sam had taken it with him, but he found out that Sam sorted his clothes by color, had apparently a tie fetish and used shampoo with almond and coconut flavor.

And he had rather large collection of sex toys. Dean whistled when he opened the chest at the foot of Sam's bed. Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs and a lot of other stuff. Some of them stayed a mystery to Dean and if he was honest, he wasn't keen on finding out what some of them were used for.

Given Sam's nature, the collection hardly came as a surprise and he wondered when Sam would bring them up. Dean closed the chest and left the bedroom with an uneasy feeling in his guts.

He had noticed the shelves downstairs under the gallery with books and DVDs before but now he had a closer look at them. Mainly he was hoping for something hidden there. If there was he didn't find it, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer amount of stuff. In the hall of a room the shelves didn't seem like much but Sam must have hundreds of films and books hoarded here. All sorted by author and genre, the movies even by year too as far as he could tell.

"Won't die of boredom, that's for sure."

As promised Sam was back at 5:30 and by then Dean had everything back in order and Sam would never know that he'd snooped around in his underwear, which was also sorted by color and even held a pair of pink briefs.

The days of the first week went by with Dean searching for information while Sam was at work, checking and double-checking every drawer and every corner. Dean didn't know how many hours he stood at the door to the stairs, trying to will his body to make that one step. It never worked.

They spent the evenings and the next weekend together with movies, pool and a game of poker. All in all it wasn't that bad. Sam never touched him and tried to be friendly in a not intrusive way.

Dean even took Sam up on the offer to call Bobby. Just to see if Bobby got his car back home safely but the thing Dean actually needed was to hear his friend's voice. Like the last time Dean didn't get a chance to get out a call for help, though.

After that one chili incident which had left Dean running the whole night – Sam either had an iron-clad stomach or this was the final proof that he wasn't human at all – , Dean had taken over cooking. Out of pure self-preservation.

By the time the second week rolled around Dean had accepted that there was no way out. He couldn't leave, he couldn't harm or threaten Sam, he couldn't even hurt himself on purpose.

Oh, he could cut himself by accident just fine, he'd found out while chopping onions, but as soon as he tried to make the smallest cut on purpose, he just couldn't.

The books and movies kept him busy that second week but one could only read that much at a time.

Dean noticed that the dishwasher made a strange noise and that the faucet in Sam's bathroom was leaking and he was pretty sure with a little maintenance the A/C would work a lot better.

He hadn't seen any tools around but he was bound to this floor and there was probably more in the basement he just couldn't access. So he asked Sam who eagerly brought half a hardware store upstairs at his request. Apparently the whole equipment of the old factory was stored down there. Dean was dying to have a look but had to do with the stuff Sam brought him.

The tools were old and dusty, not used in years, but he got everything he needed to do the various repairs.

After that second week Dean had an even closer eye on Sam than before. As much as he would have liked to pretend that he had forgotten about that one particular bit of Sam's offer back at the market, he clearly remembered him saying "once or twice a month".

And sure enough, the content, lazy Sam Dean had gotten to know right after their night together wore off over time and slowly but surely he became restless, almost erratic.

He wouldn't make it through the whole four weeks before he'd need to feed again, Dean realized.

He almost made it through week three, though.

They had dinner as usual with Sam talking about his day in the office, when all of a sudden Sam said: "I need it."

Dean froze, fork half-way to this mouth.

"Okay." He managed to say, not quit sure how he felt about the fact that he'd just been ordered to the other man's bed.

"In the next few days." Sam added without looking at him. "Just tell me when you're ready."

Dean excused himself directly after dinner and spent the rest of the evening in his room.

He had known that Sam would _ask_ sooner or later and the last time hadn't been that bad, quite the opposite, but still.

Sam needed it and if Dean didn't deliver he would bring him back to the market. Roll over and spread your legs on command or get eaten by a werewolf. Dean didn't like it but he had no choice.

But Sam had also said that Dean had the saying in what they did. That this was about Dean's pleasure. That he was fine with almost everything as long as Dean got off on it. Time to test the boundaries.

So the next day when they'd finished their dinner, Dean cornered Sam in the kitchen and caught his lips in a fierce kiss.

"I take that as a tonight?" Sam asked when they finally parted. Dean licked his lips, willingly dosing himself up with Sam's saliva.

He would have been lying if he denied that he had been turned on before that, Sam was a smoking hot guy, but this surely helped.

Dean grabbed his ass and brought their hips together. Through the denim he felt Sam's growing erection against his own rising cock.

"What would you say." He ground against him, coaxing a moan from Sam's lips. "If I said I want to bend you over the counter, slick up with cooking oil and just take you?" He locked eyes with Sam. He had meant it as a challenge, one he didn't expect Sam to accept, but damn, that thought was hot.

"I'd say you know where the oil is."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam hadn't expected Dean to be so upfront. But he liked it.

So a second later his pants and underwear hung around his knees and he was leaning over the counter, ass up in the air, while Dean just stood there.

However, the second Sam bent over, he felt Dean's pleasure spark so he was pretty sure this wasn't just big talk.

"You getting the oil or do you want to just admire the view?" Sam looked over his shoulder.

"I...I..." Dean swallowed thickly. "I didn't mean to … I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Sam assured him. "I don't need much prep and I can feel how much this is turning you on. Just do it."

To his surprise Dean actually got the oil and then Sam felt the slick tip of his cock at his entrance.

Sam braced himself when he felt Dean pushing in and a second later Dean was fully seated inside him.

With no preparation at all Sam had to grit his teeth at the stretch and the burn but it felt good. And more important, he could feel how much Dean liked it.

"Holy shit." Dean whispered, hands loosely on Sam's hips. "Okay?"

"Move." Sam nodded and shoved his ass back to take Dean just a little deeper. "Take me, I know you want it."

Dean didn't respond but his grip tightened and he pulled out almost all the way before he thrust back in. Hesitant, probing.

"C'mon, fuck me for real."

And Dean did. Sam felt bruises forming where Dean's fingers dug in his flesh and the edge of the counter bit into his hip with every brutal thrust. When Sam tried to shift to find a better position, Dean's hand landed between his shoulder blades, holding him down. Sam clawed helplessly at the counter but didn't throw Dean off. This was good, Dean going wild, the burn with every forceful snap of Dean's hips against his. Pinned down and forced to just take it, Sam loved it.

Above him Dean grunted like an animal, a guttural sound that found its way straight to Sam's cock.

There was anger behind Dean's sudden outburst, frustration and fear, and Sam hadn't felt more turned on in a very long time.

"Touch yourself." Dean demanded without losing his rhythm. Sam struggled in Dean's hold to get a hand down to his cock but then it took only a few rough strokes and he cried out his orgasm.

Behind him Dean spasmed and Sam felt him pulsing and spurting deep inside him.

For a second they stayed like that, their heavy panting the only sound, before Dean released Sam and carefully slipped out.

"I'm sorry." Dean stepped back, a horrified look on his face.

"What for?" Sam straightened and pulled his pants back up.

"I didn't mean to …" Dean didn't meet his eyes. "Please don't bring me back to the market."

Sam closed the gap between them in one step, taking Dean's face in both hands.

"Why would I bring you back when I get exactly what I want?"

"What?" Dean blinked at him in confusion.

"I don't mind if you like to play rough from time to time." He traced the outline of Dean's jaw with his fingertips. "In case you didn't notice, I came with barely a touch."

"But I forced you." Dean blurted out.

"First of all, I am the one forcing you." Sam sighed. He didn't like it and most of the time he tried to forget about that little detail but it was the truth. "And second, if I wanted to I could have overpowered you at any time."

"You think?" Dean raised an eyebrow but his cockiness wasn't completely back. There was still wariness and maybe even fear in his eyes.

"Yeah, I think." Sam stepped closer, bringing their bodies and lips together. Then in one swift move he grabbed Dean's ass and lifted him up.

Dean yelped in surprise but then slung his arms and legs around Sam, ankles crossed just above his butt.

"How about we continue this upstairs?" Sam kissed him and when Dean nodded he carried him to the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

When Sam woke up in the morning Dean was still with him in the bed. In fact, Dean had thrown an arm and a leg over him, holding him close, while he snored softly into Sam's ear.

Sam just smiled and didn't move for quite a while.

But it was the middle of the week and he had to get up eventually and go to work. Dean was still too knocked out to do much more than to roll over when Sam slipped out of the bed and Sam was grateful for that. He wasn't sure how the man would react when he found out that they actually had spent the whole night together, naked and curled up like cats in a basket.

Well fed Sam was in for a few lazy days, he even fell asleep in front of the TV that evening, but he still noticed that Dean was getting bored.

The way Dean jumped at the opportunity to change a light bulb was telling but Sam had no idea how to help him. Dean brushed him off every time Sam tried to ask him about his interests and hobbies. When he asked if he should get him something, anything, Dean just shrugged.

Without the option to go out, to use a phone or computer his ways to entertain himself were limited, Sam knew that but he couldn't risk letting Dean interact with anybody without supervision. Even the short phone calls with this Bobby guy were a risk and Sam was actually glad that Dean hadn't asked for another one. There wasn't much Dean could tell that man anyway and Bobby had kept asking questions Dean couldn't – wasn't allowed to – answer.

When Sam came home early one day he found out that Dean had found a way to keep himself occupied. At least for a while.

"What is this?" Sam asked, barely avoiding stepping on that … thing.

"Nothing." Dean hurried to pick it up and then held it awkwardly at his side, almost so far back that it counted as holding it behind his back. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

Sam would have liked to let Dean keep his little secret, whatever it was, but he had to make sure that Dean hadn't come up with something that would help him escape. Sam doubted it but the way Dean tried to hide that thing and the red tips of his ears spoke for themselves.

"Dean." Sam stretched his hand out. "May I have a look? Please?"

Reluctantly Dean handed it over. "Just a stupid idea."

It was pretty neat for just a stupid idea. It was some kind of vehicle, roughly the size of Sam's hand. As far as Sam could tell the body was made out of a small box, something out of the kitchen was his best guess, with little details added probably made of cardboard. It was hard to tell because the whole thing was covered with something that looked like paper mache.

"How did you make paper mache?" Sam knocked his knuckle at the roof and it was as hard as he'd expected it to be.

"Ehm …" Dean shifted uncomfortable and avoided his eyes. "Egg white and toilet paper?

Impressed Sam turned the car around. There were rubber bands connected to the back axis and Sam guessed that was what got it running on its little bottle cap wheels.

"How long have you been working on it?" Sam asked because this was clearly not a day's work. The paper mache alone needed time to dry.

"On this one? A few days." Dean said with forced casualty but then bit his lip when he noticed his slip.

"Thought it didn't look like a prototype." Sam handed it back and Dean took it with shame in his eyes. He wondered what Dean was so ashamed of. The fact that he'd been caught doing something he thought he wasn't allowed to? Or that he was a grown man playing with a toy car? A self-made toy car.

"How far can it go?" Sam asked instead.

Now Dean's face lit up. He turned the back wheels, set the vehicle on the ground and then it went off.

The car made it half-way through the room and Sam couldn't help but smile at Dean's proud grin.

"How about I'll get you some paint tomorrow?" Sam suggested. "It looks only half-done without paint."

"You mean I can keep it?" Dean asked.

"Of course, make as many as you like. I'm happy you found something you enjoy."

"Thanks." Dean smiled at him and that smile just brightened Sam's world.

Dean set the car aside but didn't hide it in his room. Where he probably hid the previous ones, Sam guessed but didn't know because he kept true to his word and never entered Dean's room without permission.

Later when they sat together over dinner, Sam just had to ask.

"How did you come up with the idea?"

"Well … when I spoke with Bobby I remembered something. I can't do the real thing here but … yeah." Dean shifted in his seat, clearly pondering if he should tell Sam or not. "When I was a kid I spent the summer at Bobby's. He let me help in the salvage yard and taught me everything I know about cars. He even let me tinker with old radios and stuff." Dean paused for a moment, eyes glossed over in fond memory.

_That's when the handyman thing started,_ Sam mused.

"Anyway." Dean pulled himself back to the present. "One day I found this remote-controlled car. It was totaled. Took me a while to bring the motor back to life. The plastic body was beyond repair but I built a new one out of scrap metal. Man, that thing was badass." He had a dreamy smile on his lips now. But then his face darkened and he turned his gaze back to his plate, hiding his eyes from Sam.

"What happened?" Sam had to asked and he had to fight the impulse to just hug the other man.

"At the end of the summer Dad came to pick me up." He shoved some peas around his plate. "When he saw it, he got mad. Yelled at me for wasting my time with it instead of helping out Bobby to repay him for putting up with me." The last words came out bitter and with a hard look in those suddenly too shiny eyes. Sam had the suspicion that yelling wasn't the only thing Dean's dad had done. Not that the words weren't hurtful enough on their own.

Now Sam gave in and embraced the other man in an one-armed hug. Dean didn't fight him but didn't lean into him either.

"Thank you for telling me." Sam said solemnly.

Now Dean melted into his side and Sam felt him trembling.

"I know our situation isn't even close to normal or healthy." Sam admitted. "But I want you to be as happy as possible. Build cars if that's what makes you happy. Which is awesome by the way."

"You really don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

"Thank you." Dean whispered and placed a chaste little kiss on the corner of Sam's mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean didn't know why he let Sam hug him, outside of their sex sessions they'd never shown any affection towards each other, and why he felt the sudden urge to kiss the other man, Dean had no idea either.

Then he just did it, placed a little kiss on Sam's lips.

Realizing what he'd done Dean shied back and wound himself out of the other man's arm.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled and fled to his room. Sam didn't call after him, didn't hold him back, probably equally shocked by the kiss.

Why had he done it? Dean paced up and down his room, trying to find an answer to that question.

It had felt right but now it felt wrong and Dean wasn't sure if he'd overstepped his boundaries here. If it had been a sexual kiss everything would be alright, his relationship with Sam was all about sex, but this was something different. However, so was the hug.

And why had he told Sam about the toy car? Okay, he'd left out how John had told him exactly what he thought of his son wasting time with a toy. With his fists. Or how John had thrown a crowbar in his direction afterwards with the snarled order "to take care of that thing".

Dean remembered the hot tears, from the beating and the burning shame, streaming down his face when he'd smashed the car with the crowbar while his dad had been watching from the porch with a beer in his hand.

Dean turned in early but it took long hours before his mind calmed down enough to let him drift off to sleep. The dark memories followed him into his dreams, though.

When Dean woke up the next morning he felt dried tears on his face and a deep ache in his body from the restless night. And he felt a warm body pressed against this back.

Jolting away from Sam Dean tried to get out of the bed but his legs were tangled up in the blanket, proof of his uneasy sleep, and he couldn't get away.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked hoarsely, the last thing on his mind right now was sex but why else would Sam be in his bed?

Sam had promised, dammit.

"You were having a nightmare." Behind him Sam propped himself up on one elbow. "You were screaming and I couldn't wake you up but you calmed down when I spoke to you."

Dean had the suspicion that there had been a soothing touch involved somewhere too but he didn't want to think about that.

"Why did you stay?"

"You asked me to." Sam answered, still a solid wall behind him and now he felt a hand hovering over his shoulder. Reluctantly Sam touched him there, featherlight as if he wasn't sure if the comforting touch was welcomed or not. Dean wasn't sure about that either but he didn't shrug him off.

"I did?" Bits and pieces came back to him. Yeah, he probably did.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked softly.

"No." Dean tensed and waited for Sam to push the subject, to probe and prod until he'd gotten the whole ugly truth out of him. Instead Sam just watched him for a long moment.

"Take a shower, you stink." Sam teased him kindly and Dean was grateful for the change of subject. The hand left his shoulder and Sam rolled out of bed. "I'll make coffee."

This breakfast was worse than the one after their first night together.

Sam had seen how damaged Dean was and even if he didn't ask, he for sure had his suspicions.

And there was the kiss. Dean still hadn't figured out what it meant, if anything, but he didn't mention it and neither did Sam.

Dean breathed easier when Sam left for work.

When his eyes fell on the toy car sitting in the corner he was close to throwing it in the trash but in the end he just put it back in his room. It joined the other two in the depth of his closet and when he closed the door he'd no intention to open it ever again.

For the first time Sam was late this day, he should have been home about an hour ago, and by now Dean was pacing the hall of a living room. What if something had happened to Sam? A car crash or something?

Dean had no way to contact him and now he realized that he could probably die here if something happened to Sam. With that stupid spell in place he couldn't leave and eventually he would run out of food. Hell, he couldn't even kill himself so he would be doomed to slowly starve to death if Sam didn't come back.

"He said he wanted to buy paint." Dean tried to calm himself. "That's what's taking him so long."

Why Sam wanted to buy him paint was beyond Dean, it was for a stupid toy car for Christ's sake. And even if he'd meant it when he'd said it yesterday, after what happened later Dean wasn't sure if Sam still wanted to be nice to him. Maybe he just wanted to avoid him for as long as possible. But this was Sam's home, he would come back eventually, right?

Not if something had happened to him. Or someone.

Dean blinked against the images forming in his mind. This was Sam and not … he was alright.

In the end Dean was pacing the room like a caged tiger with the TV blaring on high volume. It helped to overlay the screams in his head.

It overlaid the sound of the elevator too. Pacing Dean didn't notice Sam at first but stopped dead in his tracks when he made a turn. Sam stood there, a bag dangling from his hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

Dean hurried to switch off the TV. The sudden silence was deafening.

"I … ehm …" Dean rubbed the back of his head. "You're late. Dinner is cold by now."

"I bought you some paint for your car." Sam lifted the bag. "And then I got caught in the rush hour."

For a long moment they just stood there, awkwardly looking everywhere but each other.

What must Sam think of him now? Dean had been freaking out and he was pretty sure Sam had noticed. Hard to not notice that part.

"I'll microwave your dinner." Dean blurted the words out and rushed over to the kitchen. He wasn't hungry anymore but for sure Sam was. Sam followed him more slowly and then just watched him.

"I'm sorry." Sam said when the plate was in the microwave and all they could do was to wait for the _ping_. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You didn't." Came Dean's automatic reply, a blatant lie, but Sam didn't call him out on it. Instead he stepped closer and embraced Dean in a tight hug. Surprised and not sure what to do Dean just stood there for a moment and let it happen but then he returned the gesture, clinging tightly to Sam.

"I'm here." Sam said in a low voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

Those words shouldn't be so calming, so comforting, Sam was the one keeping him prisoner after all, but it was exactly what Dean needed to hear.

Not letting go of him Sam walked them over to the couch where he guided Dean to sit down.

"What are you doing?" Dean looked down at Sam who was now kneeling between his open legs.

Sam didn't answer, just kept his hands busy stroking up and down Dean's arms and shoulders. It felt good, he had to admit. The tension melted out of his body and he dared to breathe again.

Sam was here, safe and sound.

The hands changed path, now gently stroking is sides and over his chest. Dean wasn't sure where this was leading, or where he wanted this to lead, but he felt his cock twitching with interest.

Dean shifted, his growing erection was literally right in Sam's face, a fact that didn't help him getting his body back under control. Quite the opposite.

Sam seemed to have noticed but didn't comment on it. Instead he let his hands wander farther down, over Dean's hips and the outside of his thighs.

Unconsciously Dean's legs fell more open, giving Sam more room.

"Tell me to stop." Sam said, this thumbs painting little circles on the insides of Dean's knees.

"Don't stop."

That was all the encouragement Sam needed. His thumbs worked their way in those small circles up the inner side of Dean's legs until they dipped in the crease of his groin.

By now the bulge behind the zipper was quite obvious and when Sam mouthed him through the fabric of his jeans, a needy moan escaped Dean's lips.

Sam took his time and pleasured him through the denim until it was soaking with saliva and precome.

"Please." Dean begged, eyes closed and head rolling on the back of the couch. His hands had found their way into Sam's hair, pulling him closer.

Finally Sam came up long enough to open the zipper and to get Dean's cock out. Dean nearly came right then but Sam had a firm grip around the base and just hold him until he'd calmed down a bit.

"You're killing me here." Dean gritted out when he felt the first swipe of Sam's tongue over the tip of his cock. This wasn't like they'd done it before. This time Sam took his sweet time with little licks and kisses, exploring every inch of the shaft.

When Dean felt the heat pooling deep in his belly, the building orgasm sending the first sparks up his nerves, Sam abandoned this cock and went to work on his balls.

Dean whimpered in frustration but could only claw fruitlessly at Sam's scalp while the other man held him pinned down in an iron grip and did whatever he wanted.

Apparently he wanted to suck Dean's balls now. He took one testicle in his mouth, wet and hot, and sucked and nibbled until Dean was a begging mess. Then he turned his attention to the other one.

"Sam, please … I need … please …" Dean babbled, he needed to come. Now.

When he felt the heat of Sam's mouth on his erection once again, Dean cried in relief. Slowly, inch by inch, Sam sank down on him. Farther and farther and then he just stopped.

Dean's eyes snapped open when he realized that Sam had swallowed him whole again. He looked down in awe.

Those shiny wet lips stretched impossible wide around the base of his cock and Sam's upward gaze through his bangs with those big dozy eyes, at that sight Dean was done.

Like the other time Sam held him deep in his throat and milked him with the muscles while he swallowed every last drop of his come. Only then he let go of the spent cock with a wet plop.

In the afterglow Dean sat there sprawled out bonelessly and was content with just staying there for a while. But then he noticed something.

"I don't feel tired." He cracked an eye open to look at Sam who'd come up to sit next to him. He did feel tired like he should after a good orgasm but not as beat as after their previous times.

"I didn't feed on you."

"Why not?" This must have been like free ice cream. Why wouldn't he?

"This was about what you need." Sam shrugged.

"And I needed a blowjob?" He raised a questioning eyebrow to that.

"I'm an Incubus." Now Sam grinned at him. "Sex is my solution to everything."

"What if that doesn't work?"

"Try more sex."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam needed time to think. This wasn't like he'd expected. He had been naive when he'd thought he could just buy himself a person and everything would be okay.

Dean came with baggage, that much had been clear almost from the beginning but after his panic attack when Sam had been late, it was more obvious than ever.

However, Dean had a point. What would happen if for some reason Sam couldn't come back for him?

The next few days Sam thought about ways to make Dean's life less stressful. First of all he made sure that he was home at the time he'd said he would be. Ellen, his boss, wasn't a fan of spontaneous overtime herself so most of the time he knew a day or two in advance when he'd have to stay longer. He talked to Ellen about that, though, and she didn't even asked for a reason, she just promised to keep it in mind and he knew she would and he loved her for that.

Things would be way easier if he just could give Dean a phone but he couldn't think of a way to prevent him from calling out for help. So Sam just made sure that he was home on time and hoped for the best.

"It's finished." Dean greeted him one evening with a big smile and the finished car in hand. Sam almost didn't recognize it. If it had been clearly a toy car the other day, now it was almost a model car.

"It looks great." Carefully Sam took it and had a closer look.

"It's a '67 Chevy Impala." Dean informed him with pride in his voice. "Just like my baby."

Sam felt the sting of guilt. If it wouldn't be for Sam, Dean would be out there, driving the real thing instead of building a model of it out of a box and paper mache. Except that Sam couldn't tell anymore that there was paper mache under the shiny black paint. Dean must have spent hours sandpapering it before he'd painted it.

_Not that he has much else to do_ , Sam thought bitterly.

"Show me."

Dean didn't have to be told twice. A second later the car was running down the hall.

"I optimized the engine." Dean commented when the car easily passed the mark where it had stopped the last time. "But there's only that much you can do with rubber bands and a car this size and weight."

Sam nodded to that and just accepted that Dean knew what he was talking about. But it gave him hope that Dean would like the little surprise he'd planned. But first things first.

"I've thought about the other day." Sam started when they sat together over dinner. "When I was late and you didn't know what to do." _When you freaked out_ would have been the more accurate description and they both knew it. Dean was suddenly very interested in his lasagna.

"I've a friend. Benny." Sam continued. "He's a vampire."

At that Dean's fork clattered on the plate and he stared at Sam with wide eyes.

"Please, don't." He begged. "I know I screwed up. It won't happen again. I promise. Just don't do that. Please." There was fear in his eyes.

Sam blinked at him in confusion and it took him an awful long moment until he realized how his words must sound to Dean.

"No!" Sam grabbed Dean's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "That's not what I mean. I'm not giving you to a vampire."

"You're not?" Dean sounded anything but convinced. How could he so easily think that Sam would just hand him over to a vampire?

"Like I said, he's a friend. Actually, I think you'd like him." Sam continued, still holding Dean's hand. "If something happens to me, I get hit by a car or can't come home for any other reason, he will come here and tell you what's going on. You have enough food here to last a few days and he'll bring you whatever you need until I can come back."

Dean still didn't look convinced. "And he … wouldn't he …?" He gestured towards his neck.

"No, he wouldn't feed on you." Sam hurried to say. "We have rules. You're mine. Everybody in our community respects that."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "What if you die?"

"You'd be free." Sam said. "The kind of magic I used for the spell dies with the caster. If I die, it wears off within hours."

"And I could just walk out of here?" Dean asked in disbelief. "What about your community? They surely don't want me to just wander off."

"No, they don't." Sam confirmed. "But Benny is going to claim you. He'll help you out of the city." That part hadn't been easy, it meant a huge risk for Benny, but he didn't want Dean to get killed over this. Not that Sam expected to die any time soon.

"I just have to hope you die, then." Dean muttered, pushing pieces of meat around his plate.

"Looks like." Sam leaned forward and looked Dean in the eye. "The reason I'm telling you this is that I want you to know that you're safe. Whatever happens to me you're not going to sit here, slowly starving to death, wondering if I ever come back or not."

"Thank you." Relief washed over Dean's face and Sam knew he'd just taken off a burden from Dean's shoulder he'd been carrying around since his panic attack, maybe longer.

"Are you done?" Sam gestured at Dean's half-eaten lasagna.

"Yeah." He looked at the cold and butchered leftovers as if he'd just noticed that he'd been attacking them with his fork for a while now. He pushed the plate away.

Sam stood up to clear the table.

"I've a surprise for you."

"Not a big fan of surprises." Dean muttered without looking at him.

"You'll like this one." Sam promised. He scrapped the plates clean and put them in the dish washer.

"Last night I redid the spell." With a big grin he turned back to Dean who still hadn't moved from the table.

"What do you mean?" Dean eyed him sceptically.

"Wanna see the rest if the building? You still can't go outside." Sam hurried to add the last part, he didn't want to give Dean false hope, that would have been cruel.

_And what you're doing isn't?_ A mean little voice in his mind asked but Sam chose to ignore it.

"But you can leave this floor." Sam finished his statement.

"That's your big surprise?" Dean didn't seem impressed.

"This has been a factory for furniture before I bought it. I stored everything in the basement but I never came around to actually clean it out. It's all still there collecting dust. Machines, tools, scrap metal." Sam shrugged but didn't miss the interested glint in Dean's eyes. "Thought you might want to have a look around."

Turned out Dean did want to have a look around. He was out of his chair and at the elevator in a heartbeat.

Sam pretended to not notice the emotions flashing over Dean's face when he crossed the invisible line that had held him prisoner for so long now and stepped in the elevator.

Sam didn't fool himself, the line wasn't gone, the cage was only a little bigger now, he had no reason to feel so damn generous right now but he couldn't help the pleased smile forming on his lips.

Out of the lower floor, it wasn't really a basement even if Sam had dubbed it that way, Sam had only taken over the garage and a small storage room as his laundry room where he also stored everything he didn't want to have permanently in his apartment.

That left more than three quarters of the floor unused and stuffed with things Sam had no use for. But maybe Dean had.

"This is awesome." Dean was like a kid in a candy store. Less than five minutes down here and he was covered in dust and sweat and almost got stuck once when he tried to squeeze behind a machine-part-thingy. Sam had no idea how someone could get all enthusiastic over old stuff like this, however, this was the happiest he'd seen Dean so far so he was the last to complain.

The tour ended in the only not packed to the ceiling room, the former janitor's workshop, the one Sam had raided to get Dean his tools for his various little maintenance jobs around the loft.

Dean braced himself at the workbench with his back to Sam.

"Why are you showing me all this?" Dean asked in a tight voice. Sam couldn't see his face but he saw the tense shoulders.

"All this stuff is just lying around." Sam said with a little shrug. "I wanted to clean it all out years ago but never came around to do it. Now I'm glad I didn't."

He stepped closer and laid a hand between Dean's shoulder blades. The muscles under his hand tensed up for a second but then relaxed noticeable.

"It's yours if you want it." Sam said softly. "Tinker with the machines, built something out of it."

"So you're letting me play with your trash?" Dean turned his head to give him an amused glance.

"I saw what you did with an old box, toilet paper and egg white." Sam reminded him. The way Dean was looking at him he'd done the right thing. "Can't wait to see what you'll make out of this."

"Oh, I have a few ideas." Dean turned around fully and only then Sam realized how close they stood. Dean was practically wedged between him and the workbench.

He should back off, give the other man some room, Sam knew that but didn't move. Dean didn't push him back either and for a long moment they just stared at each other.

Then Dean closed his eyes and leaned in until their lips met.

Stunned Sam just let it happen. Dean's lips on his, the tongue darting forward, tracing the outline of Sam's lips. After a second of hesitation Sam kissed him back. They both knew what his saliva would do to Dean but Dean didn't seem to care so neither did Sam.

Sure enough the kiss turned needy on Dean's part after a few seconds, his hand tangled in Sam's hair and the other one roaming his back, bringing them closer together. Following Dean's lead, Sam let his hands wander and wiggled a leg between Dean's for some delicate friction on their growing erections.

"Dean." Sam broke the kiss long enough to breathe out the words. "We don't have to do this."

"Get your hand on my dick." Dean commanded and smashed their mouths together once again. It was a little struggle to get their cocks out but soon enough Sam wrapped his hand around both of them.

It was fast and dirty and good.

Dean arched his hips, thrusting into the tight tunnel of Sam's fingers and spilled his release. The sudden slick eased the way and now their cocks slid easily against each other and it took Sam only a few more quick strokes and he followed Dean.

Panting they stood there for a long moment, Dean braced backwards on the workbench and Sam leaning heavily on him, hand still loosely wrapped around their softening cocks.

Sam hadn't planned on feeding this soon again but he soaked up what Dean offered. And it was nice to feed without hunger roaring in the back of his mind, he had to admit.

They parted and tucked themselves back in without saying a word and Sam wasn't sure if this was an awkward silence or not.

"Thank you." Dean said and gave him a little peck on the corner of his mouth. Without another word he walked out of the room.

Suddenly Sam felt sick.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean could tell that Sam had fed this time because he barely made it to the couch before he collapsed. He didn't lose consciousness like the previous times Sam had fed off him in those full on sex sessions they had but he felt drained and drifted somewhere on the brink of sleeping.

Here in this numbness of his mind Dean could think about his situation in an objective, emotionless way. Sam could bring him back to the Food Market whenever he got bored of his damaged sex toy. Or he could hand him down to his vampire friend. Hell, he even could just kill Dean if he wanted to.

And Dean with his nightmares and freak outs wasn't helping his situation, he knew that. So it was probably a good idea to compensate that by being nicer to Sam. He'd initiated what had happened in the basement on a whim but the way Sam had responded to that had encouraged Dean. He'd done it as a thank you, as a way to prove that he could give what Sam needed. To make himself useful enough to be kept.

However, in his current state of mind, just letting the thoughts drift by, he could admit to himself that there was more. He'd started to feel something for Sam. And that scared him. He needed to get out of here before it could grow into something.

Sam had followed him upstairs but didn't approach him. Dean didn't open his eyes but through his sleepy brain he heard Sam clatter in the kitchen. Minutes later the rich aroma of coffee reached Dean's nose.

"Espresso?" Sam asked softly and set two little cups on the table. Dean blinked his eyes open just in time to see him awkwardly fiddling with the cups and the sugar and he even had piece of dark chocolate for each of them ready.

Dean came up to a sitting position and he had to admit that some caffeine was exactly what he needed now.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their espressos, but Dean could clearly tell that Sam was searching for the right words to say something.

"About earlier." He finally spoke and of course Dean knew exactly what he was referring to. "Why did you do that?"

"Does it matter?" Dean shrugged.

"It does." Sam set the cup aside, in his hand it looked like a little girl's tea-cup and Dean hurried to look somewhere else, he really shouldn't marvel at Sam's long fingers. "I don't want you to feel obliged to do something like that."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "I am obliged."

"Yeah, you are." Sam raked a hand though his hair, clearly at a loss how to express what he wanted to say. "But you don't have to thank me like that whenever I do something nice to you."

"You liked it."

"I did." Sam didn't look him in the eye. "And I like you. I don't want to reduce you to a mindless sex toy." He sighed. "I know our situation is screwed up …"

"Understatement."

"... but I want you to know that I want you to be as happy as possible. I gave you the basement because I thought you'd like it not because I hoped to get an appetizer out of it."

Dean nodded to that but it didn't change the decision he'd come to earlier. No matter how nice Sam was to him, he was still holding Dean's life in his hands. If somebody's happiness was important here, it wasn't Dean's.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not." It was the truth, he wasn't afraid of Sam per se. He was afraid of what would happen if Sam got bored of him some day. And he was worried about his feelings toward Sam.

Sam didn't seem convinced but he dropped the topic and turned on the TV instead. More to escape the awkward silence than anything else, Dean guessed, but it worked.

Dean didn't actually care what they were watching but after a while the silence between them became more comfortable and in the end they laughed and commented on the stupidness of the show together.

Dean went to bed in a good mood and slept without bad dreams till morning. After Sam had left for work, he went downstairs to have a real look around.

It still felt awesome to just leave the upper floor.

The door of the garage was at the side and he couldn't get through, he'd expected that much. Next he tried the windows. This ones could be opened and were only inches above the ground.

He still couldn't climb out, though. Dean could see the street at the end of the driveway and from time to time even a car passing by. This wasn't a neighborhood were he'd expect people walking by so shouting probably wouldn't get him anywhere. He still tried.

However, nobody heard him. No car stopped or even slowed down.

Frustrated Dean closed the window.

There had to be another way. His eyes fell on the garage door again and he wondered if he could drive out of here. He could hot-wire Sam's car during the night and would be gone before Sam even woke up.

"Yeah." He muttered to himself. "And what if the car can get through but I can't?" The images in his head were disturbing enough to drop the idea immediately.

Dean wandered around the rooms, poking at stuff here, opening a box there, and let his mind just drift.

Even if he couldn't get out, the car could.

In one box he found a collection of old drills. A rubber band car could only go so far but with a decent motor …

An idea formed in Dean's mind.

The upcoming weekend put his plan on hold for a while. He couldn't work on his little project with Sam around, but he could sort through the old stuff. There was a lot of broken junk but he kept most of the tools and the scrap metal.

Why, he'd no idea. If his plan worked he would get out soon and if not he doubted, he would be allowed to go to the basement ever again. Which would be the best case scenario. He refused to think about the worst case. Either way, he would never use any of this stuff but he still sorted it in piles so he could find whatever he'd need later.

Over the weekend Dean tried to act normal while his mind worked on his idea. At least he had a good excuse and could disappear to the basement for hours.

They spent the evenings together with beer and a movie from Sam's collection. There were still quite some left Dean hadn't seen.

Sam was still fed enough that a quick handjob would make him slow and lazy for a day or two, by now Dean had figured out the mechanics behind Sam's need, however, the one time Dean tried to kiss him, Sam rejected him.

Dean wasn't sure what to make out of that, caught between feeling relieved and hurt, but the mood between them stayed light-hearted so he just accepted it.

When Sam left for work on Monday morning, Dean waited impatiently for half an hour, just to make sure Sam wouldn't come back because he'd forgotten something, before he sneaked into the other man's bedroom.

The sex toys were still in the chest at the end of Sam's bed but Dean couldn't tell if they'd been in use since the last time he'd opened the chest or not.

He took one vibrator from the bottom and could only hope that it wasn't Sam's favorite. He would be screwed if Sam noticed the missing toy before he was ready.

Humming the A-team theme Dean stepped in the elevator.

The plan was simple. He couldn't get out but a car could. He just needed something powerful enough to reach the road.

The battery part of the vibrator became the power source for the drill which would be the motor of the car. The thing didn't need to win a beauty contest and Dean had it functional before Sam came home from work.

Over dinner Dean tried to look interested in the story Sam told about his day at work, apparently Ellen had put a customer in his place with some colorful words, and the story would have been funny if Dean hadn't other things on his mind.

He claimed to be exhausted from the work in the basement and turned in early. But he couldn't sleep. He waited for Sam to go to bed and then he hold his breath. Would he notice the missing vibrator? And if so, would he demand to know where it was right now or would he let it slide?

Sam didn't come over and he didn't say a word about missing sex toys in the morning.

Dean finally dared to breathe again when Sam left for work.

Before he did the real thing, Dean wanted to give his little car a test drive indoors. It was basically a board with wheels, the electronics screwed to it and two sticks on top, holding up a paper sign with the words "Call 911, I've been kidnapped!" written on it.

Dean had tied a cord to the rear end so he could stop the car and if necessary pull it back.

The test drive in the living room went well and there was no reason to wait any longer.

Back in the basement Dean opened the window with the straightest view down the driveway. He couldn't reach through the window but he could use a board as a ramp to get the car outside.

"Here goes nothing." Dean turned the battery on and let the car go.

The car covered the first few yards with ease and Dean's heart jumped in his chest. He would get out.

He never figured out what went wrong, if it was a wind gust or the unevenness of the driveway, but suddenly the car tipped and drove on two wheels for a moment.

Dean could only watch in horror, praying it would recover, but in the end it overbalanced and landed on its side.

"Dammit!"

Carefully Dean pulled the cord, this was one reason he'd attached it in the first place, and dragged the car back. It moved a few inches but then stopped.

"You have to be kidding me."

Dean pulled harder. The car didn't move. He couldn't make out what was holding it back, most likely an uneven crack in the pavement, and except for pulling the cord he had no way to get it free. There lay more than enough junk around in the basement but nothing long enough to reach the car.

"C'mon." Dean muttered and gave it a hearty tug. With a soft _pop_ the cord came free, leaving the car behind. "Fuck!"

Dean stared at the loose end of the cord in numb defeat. Hot tears burned in his eyes, this was not fair.

Dean didn't move for several minutes while the upper wheel of the car was still spinning uselessly in the air.

When the initial shock finally wore off, Dean spent the next few hours searching for a way to get the car back inside.

First he tried to rope it with the cord. But he couldn't reach through the window and couldn't throw it properly.

Then he nailed battens and old broomsticks together to make a pole long enough to reach the car.

The first one broke, leaving even more evidence in the driveway, and the second one slipped out of his fingers when he leaned into the invisible wall to push it just an inch farther.

By now there were two improvised poles and his car lying in the driveway and Dean had to admit that there was now way he would get any of it back inside.

In defeat Dean closed the window, cutting off the persistent buzzing of the still running car, and dragged himself to the elevator. He had one chance and he'd screwed it up.

The only thing he could do now, was to wait for Sam.

_Take it like a man,_ his father's voice echoed in his mind. He knew exactly what that man would do in Sam's place.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam couldn't stop thinking about that toy car Dean had built as a kid.

With all the scrap metal Dean had at hand now, maybe he would like to build something similar. Cars were his thing, that much Sam knew by now. He just needed a basic remote-controlled car instead of that rubber band improvisation, which by itself was pretty awesome.

There had to be box sets to build your own cars. He was pretty sure he'd seen stuff like that before. Dean could take the electronics and built his own idea around that.

_I could hit a toy store on the way home,_ Sam mused.

Bad idea, he realized. He would be late and he had no way to contact Dean. The way Dean had freaked out last time was still way too vivid in his mind. Maybe tomorrow? Or during his lunch break? Where was even the next toy store? He'd no idea.

_That's what google is for._ Sam opened a new window, his work could wait a moment, this was important.

"Sam!" Ellen's voice startled him. She sounded as if she'd called his name a few times already.

"Yeah?" He blinked up at her. She stood in the door, clearly in a hurry and a little bit annoyed.

"You have the Connor file ready?"

"In a minute." Sam hurried to tab to a work related window.

"I need it on my desk as soon as possible." She turned to leave but then stopped. "What's up with you lately?"

"What do you mean?" Sam tried to sound casual but his mind was racing. No matter how good he blended in, people became suspicious sooner or later. Usually it was the fact that he didn't age that set them off but he'd been working here for less than three years so he doubted it was already that obvious. Or that he had sex with men on a regular basis but that had become less of a problem over the last few decades.

"You look like you've the worst stomach bug ever." She said with a grin. "Or like you're madly in love."

"I … ehm …" Blindsided Sam didn't know what to say. "I may have met somebody?"

"No way." She leaned more comfortable at the door frame. "Mister I-roam-the-clubs-for-a-one-night's-fun has met somebody."

Sam hadn't made his lifestyle a secret, at least not that part, so everybody at the office knew he was gay and loved his freedom. It had never caused a problem.

"Details, son."

Sam couldn't help but smile to that. However, he had no idea what to tell her. _I bought him to have a convenient chew toy_ didn't seem the right thing to say.

"Well …" Where should he begin? "He's gorgeous, he's witty, he can cook and he's quite handy."

"In bed or outside?"

"Ellen!" He gasp in fake outrage but added with a grin. "Both."

He cleared his throat. "In fact, I was just searching for the nearest toy store. He likes to build own bodies for cars. Remote controlled cars."

"Try the store on the third." Now Ellen's smile grew wider. "They have everything. Is this a birthday present or something?"

"Or something." Sam answered while he realized that he'd no idea when Dean's birthday was.

She smiled at him but fell silent for a moment before she continued, now sounding wistful and far away. "My brothers always got things like that for their birthdays but they never let me play with the cars. Cars are not for girls." She said the last part with disdain clearly in her voice. "They never figured out why the batteries died so often over night."

She winked at him but then the moment was gone and she tapped the door frame impatiently.

"The Connor file. Now."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Sam skipped his lunch and headed for the toy store instead. Dean would have dinner ready when he got home anyway and more often than not Sam would have liked to eat more just because whatever Dean cooked, it was delicious. So one missed lunch wasn't that bad.

He only hoped that Dean would like the present he had in mind and wouldn't jump to the conclusion that he had to repay Sam for it.

Waiting at a red light Sam had time to think about his relationship with Dean. He liked the man, he really did, and it may even be more than that. How had Ellen phrased it? Madly in love. He wasn't sure if that term was correct but he wanted to see Dean happy. As happy as he could be in his situation. What he absolutely didn't want was Dean offering sex for everything nice Sam did for him.

He knew it wasn't easy to draw a clear line here because he needed sex with Dean, that was the very reason Dean was with him in the first place, but he didn't want to reduce the other man to that.

Sam sighed.

The store was hard to miss with its huge blinking sign on top and Sam wondered how he could have missed it for so long. But he'd never been interested in toys before. When he entered the store he remembered exactly why he hadn't been in a toy store in ages.

It smelled like plastic and things were making noises and blinked, they should put an epileptic warning at the door, seriously, and everything was just too bright and colorful. At this time of the day the older children were still in school but the store was packed nevertheless. Stressed parents with little ones, stressed parents without little ones and the occasional grandfather who stood lost and overwhelmed in the middle of the chaos with a piece of paper in his hand looking for that one toy he couldn't even pronounce. Sam could relate. At least he had an idea what he was looking for.

To find the section with the toy cars was another thing. At first he took the wrong aisle and ended in doll nightmare. Hundreds of dolls stared at him from the shelves, five rows up and miles long.

"Mommy, I want that one." A little girl pointed at one of the dolls, the most pink one in an ocean of pink.

"This one, honey?" The mother obediently picked that thing from the shelve. "She's adorable."

How anybody could find this abominations adorable was beyond Sam and he hurried to leave the aisle.

Just to end up in the clown section.

Sam stopped dead. With wide eyes he took in the army of clowns in front of him before he turned around and headed back to the safety of doll nightmare. He felt their unblinking eyes on him and he wondered if they would hand him over to the clowns. It was stupid, he knew that, but he breathed easier when he left the doll section entirely.

It took Sam a while but in the end he found the remote-controlled cars. Sports cars, trucks, crossroad things that didn't even look like cars anymore.

The assortment was as overwhelming as in the doll section but less frightening, not that he would ever admit that. At the end of the shelf he even found box sets to build your own car. He would have liked to just get the basic, a motor on wheels or something, he had no clue if something like that even existed, but this would do. Dean could just ignore the body that came with the box and built his own.

Sam chose one of the smaller ones, he didn't want this to become a big present, just something to bring along. Which reminded him that he really should asked Dean when his birthday was. He could get him something bigger for that. Dean would feel less obliged if there was an actual reason for a present. At least Sam hoped so.

He had no intention to bring Dean back to the Market. After he got to know Dean the thought alone made him feel sick, but he also knew that to Dean that would always be an option. No matter how often Sam said otherwise, Dean had to live in constant fear of that. Sadly Sam had no idea how to convince Dean that he would never hurt him. And bringing him back to the Market would mean his certain death. He couldn't do that. Never.

So he took the little car and went to search for the exit of this place. He had to hurry if he wanted to get back to the office in time.

To Sam the end of the workday couldn't come fast enough. He wanted to see Dean's face when he gave him the car. Would Dean like it or would he throw it back at him? The longer he thought about it the more unsure Sam became about this.

He drove home with mixed feelings.

When he turned into the driveway leading up to his place he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he nearly missed the things lying around. He almost ran over the vehicle lying on its side but he managed to hit the breaks in time. Barely.

"What the …?" Sam hurried to get out of the car to have a closer look. It was another toy car. With a real motor this time but no actual body. Instead it had a sign on top.

_Call 911_

_I've been kidnapped!_

"No, no, no." Sam muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

Dean had tried to call for help.

The fact that he'd done it didn't come as a surprise, it still hurt, though. What wrenched Sam's guts was how close Dean had come to accomplish that task. Looking around Sam pieced together what had happened here. If the driveway had been a little more even, if the car hadn't toppled over, if Dean had managed to retrieve his car afterwards.

What-ifs were swirling in his mind, making him dizzy.

Sam left his car in the driveway and ran the last bit.

Where was Dean?

Sam had a quick look around the basement but Dean wasn't there. Instead he found the slaughtered remains of something silicon on the work bench. For a moment Sam just stood there and tried to figure out what the lime green thing had once been and what it had to do with Dean's escape plan.

"A vibrator?"

Dean had taken one of his toys and had slaughtered it. A penis-shaped toy associated with Sam.

The implications hit him like a sledge hammer. This and the call for help.

Sam had to hold on to the door frame, he just felt sick. He tasted bile in the back of his throat and his vision grayed around the edges.

He still held Dean's car in his hand and he felt the wooden board splinter in his grip.

"What have I done?" He whispered but the basement stayed silent and didn't provide an easy answer. He needed to make sure that Dean was still there so he slowly made his way over to the elevator.

Emotions flooded his brain, his body practically vibrated in that maelstrom. He was angry. At himself, at Dean, at the situation in general. Frustrated. Ashamed. Too much, too many to put names on all of them.

He couldn't remember pushing the button but all too soon the doors opened and Sam stood in his loft.

Dean was still there. He stood at the far end of the hall they called their living room, as far away from the elevator as he could get without plastering himself at the wall.

Dean's eyes darted to the car Sam had clutched in his hand before he straightened himself and looked him in the eye with a blank expression which didn't cover up the fear beneath it.


	12. Chapter 12

Most of the time Dean could almost forget that Sam wasn't human.

The thing coming out of the elevator now wasn't human at all. It looked human as it had a human shape but it obviously wasn't.

Dean couldn't really put his finger on the difference, though. This Sam seemed bigger, darker and his eyes were old and cold.

Fighting the urge to back off farther Dean forced himself to look this creature in the eye. If this was how it was going to end, so be it. He wouldn't beg.

For a long moment they just stared at each other before Sam slowly came closer. He stopped at the couch table to put down the car, of course he'd found it, before he closed the distance between them.

At arm's length he came to a halt and Dean fixed his eyes on his left shoulder. Neither of them said a word. Dean probably should say something, explain himself, say that he was sorry but he couldn't bring the words through his too tight throat.

"Dean." The thing said and made one more step towards him. Now he did back off until he was plastered against the wall. With the stupid spell in place he couldn't even defend himself. He wanted to push Sam, to punch him in the face but all he could to was to fruitlessly clench his fists.

"Make it quick." His own voice sounded strange in his ears and he closed his eyes.

He had expected to feel Sam's hands closing around his throat or a fist to the face but instead Sam flinched back as if he'd been hit.

"No!" Sam brought some distance between them, fisting his hair with both hands and a horrified look on his face. Then without another word he stormed upstairs and slammed his door.

Dean just stood there dumbfounded for a long moment. Sam hadn't killed him on the spot but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Maybe Sam was already on the phone with the Market to bring him back.

With his back to the wall, literally, Dean slit down until his butt hit the ground with a thud. He let his head fell back, silent tears running down his face.

Sam didn't come back downstairs and Dean wasn't sure what to do. His eyes fell on the abandoned car on the table. He could tell where Sam's hand had been, the imprints of his fingers clearly visible in the splintered wood. Sam could have killed him with his bare hands and Dean wondered why he hadn't.

Maybe he would get a second chance. Not that he deserved one. But he dared to hope.

Should he go upstairs to apologize? Promise he wouldn't do something like this again? Beg for forgiveness?

Almost an hour later Sam still hadn't left his room.

Slowly Dean came to his feet and made his way upstairs. In front of Sam's door he hesitated but then he took a deep breath and knocked. He had nothing to lose anyway.

"Sam?" He asked through the closed door when there was no answer. "I'm sorry."

Dean wasn't sure if Sam had even heard him, there was absolute silence behind the door, and he pondered if he should just enter or better retread to his own room to wait for things to happen when suddenly Sam opened the door.

"Don't be." He said in a tone Dean couldn't place. Sam had changed into tight jeans and was in the middle of buttoning up a dark blue shirt that hugged his chest quite nicely. This was not the casual way he usually preferred for the evening.

"I can't do this. Not now." There was a haunted look in Sam's eyes when he pushed past Dean. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He was half-way at the elevator when Dean caught up with him.

"Where are you going?" He had no right to ask but he needed to know.

"I need to feed." Sam rubbed his face, looking haggard and weary as if he had aged over the last hour. "Now."

"But I …" Dean swallowed thickly. "I'll do it. Give me a chance. Please."

"We're both in no condition to do this right now." Sam sighed, clearly in a hurry to get out, to get away from Dean, but he didn't step in the car when the door opened. "I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Dean dared to hope again.

"No." He even managed a little smile. It was too tight and too forced but it was a smile. "I'm actually impressed. But this has burned me out and I can't … I can't think straight. I need to feed, we'll talk in the morning."

With that he stepped in the car and when Dean tried to hold him back he hit the invisible wall once again. Sam must have redone the spell.

Dean watched the doors closing and then he was alone. He didn't know what to make out of the situation. Sam had said he wasn't mad but at the same time he had rejected Dean and went out to feed on somebody else.

Dean waited. There was nothing else he could do.

He sat on the couch and waited for Sam to return. If he returned. He had said so but Dean wasn't so sure about it this time.

However, this time Dean couldn't bring himself to care. For a brief moment he wondered who the man might be Sam was with right now but that thought drifted into nothingness as well.

His mind floated in a numb, careless space.

He sat there for hours, twilight turned into night without him noticing.

Then, finally, the elevator moved.

"Why are you still up?" Sam asked without turning the lights on. He sounded tired and wrecked.

Dean stood up to face him but had no good answer to his question.

"I'm sorry." He said instead, fully aware of how pathetic he must sound.

"I'm the one who should say that." Sam answered. "Dean, I am sorry. For all I'm doing to you. And we need to talk but can we do this tomorrow? When we've both slept and cleared our minds?"

Dean wasn't sure if he could sleep. Or wanted to. He already felt the nightmares just waiting to claw their way into his mind while he slept and the last thing he wanted to happen was to wake up screaming with Sam rushing to his side. It had been embarrassing enough the few times it had happened before but tonight? Maybe he should just stay up the rest of the night.

"Sure." He brought out the word with some delay and he felt Sam watching him. He wondered what was going on in the other man's mind.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" Sam asked in a low voice. Low enough for Dean to wonder if he'd heard correctly.

"If you want me to." Dean stepped closer. This was probably his last chance. He leaned in to kiss him but Sam stopped him with both hands on his shoulders.

"Just sleeping." Sam corrected. "After a stressful day you seem to sleep better with me around." He paused. "If you can still stand being that close to me, that is."

Dean frowned at him, was there a hidden meaning he was missing?

"You mean the nightmares." Dean avoided his eyes.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." His hands moved from Dean's shoulders to embrace him in a hug. Hesitant at first but when Dean returned the gesture, Sam tightened his hold.

"It's okay." Sam mumbled into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean doubted that but he took what he could get.

They went to their own rooms to change into sleepwear and for a long moment Dean wasn't sure if he had the courage to go over to Sam's room. In the end he didn't have the courage to not go over.

Stiff like a board he lay next to Sam, their bodies far enough apart to not tough. It was way after midnight and Dean felt beyond exhausted but he was wide awake.

By now he had a good grip on Sam's condition, he could tell when he was running low and would have to feed soon, and now he could clearly tell that whatever Sam had done with the other guy had been just enough to get the edge off. A day maybe two before he would have to feed for real.

Dean just wasn't sure if he would still be there to help him out by then.

"I went to a club." Sam suddenly broke the silence. Looked like he couldn't sleep either. "I was a regular there before I met you."

Dean didn't answer and just waited for Sam to continue. Why was he even telling him this?

"Didn't take long to hook up with a guy. Took him outside and fucked him in the back ally between some dumpsters."

That didn't sound romantic at all but it still gave Dean a jealous sting in his chest.

"Tall guy, well built with short spiky hair." Sam continued in a flat tone. "I turned him around so I couldn't see his face and fucked him from behind. I pretended it was you."

Sam fell silent.

"You didn't want me." Dean reminded him in a low whisper and then turned to his side to face him. "You could have me now. You could fuck me like you fucked that guy."

Sam turned as well and now their faces were only inches apart. In the darkness Dean couldn't make out his expression but he felt Sam's breath hot on his lips.

"No." Sam reached out to stroke Dean's face. A gesture more gentle than he'd expected. "That's why I couldn't do it with you. I was starving and an emotional mess. It would have been punishment for you."

"I deserve it." He did. After what he'd done he deserved much harsher punishment than a rough fuck. Once again his father came to mind but Dean pushed that thought back into the depths of his mind.

"For what?" Sam asked. "For being desperate? For wanting to be free? For being creative?"

"For disobeying?" Dean countered. "For being ungrateful? For betraying you?"

Sam sighed. Maybe he'd finally realized how much of a failure Dean was.

"Dean, I'm the one keeping you prisoner here."

That wasn't what Dean had expected to hear.

"I said I won't ever hurt you and I'm keeping my word." His fingers wound their way in Dean's hair but it didn't hurt, quite the opposite. It felt nice and Dean dared to lose himself in that feeling for a moment. "And for sure I won't punish you for trying to escape."

"So you won't bring me back to the market?"

"What?" He sounded confused as if that thought had never crossed his mind. "Dean, I would never do that to you. No matter what. You hear me? I'll never hurt you and you're not going back there. Never."

Relief washed over Dean and tears pricked in his eyes.

"Shh, it's okay." Sam drew him closer and Dean hugged him back. Finally the tension melted out of his body and he couldn't hold back the sobs anymore.

With his face buried in Sam's chest Dean cried himself to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam knew Dean suffered from nightmares. He didn't know what exactly had happened to the other man but by now he knew when the bad dreams were most likely to hit.

The worst one so far had occurred after Dean had told him about the toy car he'd built as a kid. And how his dad had not approved.

But there were other occasions. Dean was more likely to have nightmares after they had sex, even if he insisted that the sex with Sam was awesome, or when he was under stress, the panic attack when Sam had been late came to mind.

However, if it wasn't for their sex sessions Dean slept in his own room and Sam only caught on to the really bad ones so he had no idea how often Dean actually suffered from them.

To say that Dean had a stressful day today would be an understatement and if he was honest, Sam had handled the situation quite poorly. Leaving Dean alone had been a bad idea but at that point he didn't have another choice. If he'd stayed he would have fed on Dean and in his mental condition that would have done more damage than leaving. For both of them.

Sam was just grateful that Dean still trusted him enough to sleep in his bed, although Sam wasn't entirely sure if he did it out of a feeling of obligation or not.

Dean cried himself to sleep, clinging to Sam, while Sam drew firm circles on his back and hushed him with soft words.

It hardly came as a surprise when at some point during the night Dean became restless. It was the reason Sam had offered his bed in the first place.

Sam woke from the light slumber he'd drifted off to when Dean started to mumble in his sleep. He couldn't make out words, if this even were words and not just guttural noises of discomfort.

"Shh." He drew Dean closer in, holding him tight. "You're safe. It's okay."

Sam started with the gentle circles on Dean's back again and combined with his low voice it helped to calm him down. At least for a while.

The nightmares were never far and each time they became more intense and it took Sam longer to calm Dean down.

Around five in the morning Dean started to move again while he whimpered in his sleep and now some of the words became audible, _no_ and _stop_ and _don't_ and _please_.

Sam still didn't know what had happened to Dean but this was enough to draw an ugly picture.

_As if you're any better,_ he thought bitterly but forced himself to focus on the trembling man in his arms.

"No!" Dean screamed and broke Sam's hold on him with a fist to Sam's face.

"Dammit." Sam muttered, for being asleep Dean threw quite a punch. Rubbing his jaw he gave Dean some room, he wasn't keen on tasting that fist again.

"Dean." Gently he tried to wake him, by now Dean had worked himself into a fight with an invisible enemy and Sam feared that Dean would hurt himself or fall out of bed with his tossing and turning.

"Dean, wake up." Louder now but Dean didn't react.

"No, don't!" Dean yelled, shielding his head with his arms. "Please."

"Dean!" Sam was yelling now too but Dean didn't wake up.

Sam grabbed his shoulder to shake him awake but that didn't end well. Dean screamed like he'd been hit and aimlessly tried to get away.

Sam didn't want to slap Dean, that was the last thing Dean needed right now, so he did the only other thing he could think of. Ignoring Dean's fighting Sam threw one arm over him, pinning his arms to his sides and with the other one on Dean's forehead he held his head still. Then he brought their lips together.

It wasn't kissing on Dean's part, God only knew what his nightmare mind made out of this, but Sam forced his way in and dosed him up with his saliva.

It took only a few seconds to take effect.

The screaming stopped and Dean finally relaxed in his hold.

"See?" He stroke the sweaty hair out of Dean's face. "That's better."

Dean still didn't wake up but judging by the noises coming from him now, his dream had become way more pleasant. He actually snuggled closer to Sam, his erect cock now a firm line against Sam's hip.

Sam lay perfectly still, he didn't want to take advantage of Dean, not now, not like this, but he couldn't help it and soaked up the waves of pleasure coming from the other man.

Earlier with that stranger he'd met at the club Sam had fed. However, everything coming from Dean tasted so much better. They would have to do the real thing soon and Sam was looking forward to it with mixed feelings. He feared how Dean would react to that, to him.

The butchered vibrator came to mind. The rational part of his mind tried to convince him that Dean had just needed the part inside but he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling when he thought about what Dean had done to something that symbolized his penis.

For now Sam tried to let go of the unsettling thoughts and to focus on Dean who lay pressed against him, unconsciously seeking some friction, while Sam's own cock tented his underwear. Sam didn't touch Dean and he didn't touch himself. Neither of them got off that night and when they woke up in the morning neither of them was well rested.

"Morning." Sam murmured when Dean blinked his eyes open, lying with his head on Sam's arm. Said arm had gone numb hours ago but Sam didn't have the heart to push Dean away.

Now, finally awake, Dean realized how tangled up they lay together and rolled to his back to bring some distance between them.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked when Dean just stared up at the ceiling. With pins and needles the blood rushed back into his arm but he ignored the feeling for now.

"Good." Came Dean's hoarse answer.

Sam glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and sighed. He was already late for work.

He should get out of bed but he didn't want to leave Dean too abruptly, he didn't want him to get the wrong impression, and the thought of leaving Dean over the day caused an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"You know what." Decision made he propped himself up on one elbow and reached for his phone he'd left on the nightstand. Stupid, he should have locked it away over night.

"I'm calling in sick. We have some things to sort out."

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Dean swallowing thickly but he didn't say anything.

"Morning, Ellen." Sam said when she picked up. "Sorry to bother you this early but I think you jinxed me with that stomach bug line yesterday. Believe me, you don't want me in the office today."

This was the first time he'd ever called in sick and Ellen believed his lie without batting an eye.

She told him to stay in bed, to drink a lot and that he shouldn't dare to show his face before Monday. Thanking her he ended the call.

"So, you're going to stay home today." Dean said in a low voice without looking at him and in a tone Sam couldn't quite place. Wary, maybe even fearful. For sure not a tone he wanted to hear from Dean.

Sam put the phone back and turned towards Dean.

"How about we both take a shower and then meet downstairs for breakfast?" He suggested. "We need to talk."

Dean nodded to that and then rolled out of bed. He was out of the room a second later and Sam pretended that it didn't hurt that he was so eager to get away from him.

However, with the failed attempt to escape yesterday and a night full of nightmares, it wasn't unexpected. It still hurt, though.

"What a mess." Sam sighed and flopped back into his pillow, arm thrown over is eyes. Then he forced himself out of bed, he wanted to at least have coffee ready before Dean came downstairs. Not that he expected him to hurry, quite the opposite.

Sam had more than enough time for a quick shower and to make the coffee and when Dean still wasn't there he went to get the shopping bag out of the car. It seemed an eternity ago when he'd been browsing the toy store to get the perfect car for Dean.

When Dean finally made his way downstairs Sam had the coffee ready and the bag on the counter. He still wanted to give Dean the car and maybe the gesture would help Dean to understand that nothing had changed. Sam wasn't mad or angry.

Dean kept his gaze downcast but accepted the steaming mug with a mumbled "Thanks".

They fell into an awkward silence, Sam had no idea how to address the things he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry." Dean broke the silence, eyes still fixed on his coffee.

For a second Sam closed his eyes while he took a deep breath.

"I didn't have the chance to give you this yesterday." Instead of telling Dean, again, that there was nothing to be sorry for, Sam reached for the bag. "Thought you could leave the plastic body and built something from scratch."

With a spark of curiosity in his eyes Dean took the box out of the bag.

"Thanks." Dean's voice was thick with emotion. "But that has lost its point now, hasn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Unless you want to haul the workbench and the welding equipment up here …" His voice drifted off.

"Dean." Sam took the box out of his trembling fingers and took Dean's hand in his. "You're getting the basement back, I promise. I just have to figure out a way …" Now it was his turn to leave a sentence unfinished but he had no idea how to put his intentions in words. He wanted Dean to work down there but he couldn't risk something like yesterday happen again.

"Why?" Dean looked up at him and Sam saw something like hope in his eyes.

"Nothing has changed, Dean." Sam searched for words. "What you did yesterday … you had to try, I get that. There is nothing wrong with that."

He paused.

"I know this is fucked up, believe me, I know." Sam let out another sigh. Dean's hand was still in his but now Dean's thumb painted little circles on the back of his hand as if it was Sam who needed reassurance. "But I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be in this situation, and for sure I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not." Dean said and it didn't sound that much of a lie as it would have had only hours ago, Sam was sure of that. Because of that fragile trust he read in Dean's eyes Sam chose his next words very carefully.

"You don't know much about our community here." Sam said, a watchful eye on Dean. Instantly he felt him tense but Sam held on to his hand, keeping the contact.

"Yeah?"

"You remember Benny?" Sam asked.

"Your vampire friend?" Of course that was what Dean remembered about the man, the vampire part, not that he was the backup plan in case something happened to Sam.

"I'd like to call him." Sam said. "Ask him if he could come over after work."


	14. Chapter 14

Dean wanted to believe Sam, he wanted to believe that nothing had changed.

Dean still wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that Sam had eaten outside, so to speak, but Sam had offered his bed and he had helped him through the night. As embarrassing as it was, Dean was grateful for that.

Then Sam had given him the car he'd bought for him and he had promised that Dean would get access to the basement again. After he'd found a way to prevent Dean from pulling something like that little stunt again.

Dean got that. He was Sam's prisoner, slave, and he understood that Sam had to keep him from calling out for help.

What he didn't understand was why Sam even bothered with the basement. It was a proven fact that Dean was safely locked up upstairs, so why would he risk it? Especially after what had happened yesterday?

"I know this is fucked up, believe me, I know." Sam said and wasn't that the understatement of the year? But he sounded sad saying it as if he felt truly sorry for Dean's situation. "But I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be in this situation, and for sure I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Dean wasn't afraid of Sam, that was the truth. Even facing that thing last night, the thing that wasn't human, hadn't changed that. Dean had been prepared to die by Sam's hands, yes, but he hadn't been afraid. He would have accepted his punishment.

But Sam didn't want to punish him. Instead he gave him a present. And Dean dared to hope.

Then Sam wanted to invite his vampire friend over. For a long moment Dean didn't say a word, his mind racing with possibilities. Why would Sam want to have his friend here? Why now?

Maybe he wanted to punish him after all? Or was he supposed to make amends by being _nice_ to Sam's friend?

"What …" He needed to clear his throat and for some stupid reason they were still holding hands. Dean wanted to draw his hand back but didn't. "What do you expect from me?"

"Nothing." Sam hurried to say but then frowned at him. "Dean, whatever you're thinking. No." Sam's hands tightened around his but it wasn't painful, more on the reassuring side.

"You know … if you want me to … I would … you know … just tell me what to do …" Ashamed he lowered his gaze.

"Dean, I'm not pimping you out to my friend." Sam said in clear shock. "How can you even think that?"

"Why do you want him here, then?" Dean burst out, harsher than intended.

"I want you to realize how big our community really is." Sam said with a sigh. He did that a lot lately. "He comes over, we talk a little, he leaves, that's it. He's not going to feed off you and for sure you don't have to have sex with him." He sounded disgusted by the last part.

Dean wasn't quite convinced but he let it go for the moment. Not that he had a say in this anyway.

"Why don't you open it?" Sam nudged the box closer to him. "You can't really work on it just yet but I bet you'll get a few ideas while putting together the basic part."

Sam clearly had no idea what he was talking about and that coaxed a smile on Dean's lips.

"Why not." Now he drew his hand back and reached for the box. "Let's have a look."

The picture on the side showed a fictitious car, something that looked badass for kids, but like Sam had suggested he didn't have to use the plastic body. He wasn't a big fan of flames and eagles on a car anyway.

Turned out the only thing he could do right now was to put the wheels on the plastic board that held the motor.

The part he was supposed to build himself was the body. It came in sheets of molded plastic, the kind of break the piece out, hope it doesn't break and it still got a knob of plastic standing out where it doesn't belong.

Dean put the sheets aside and had a closer look at the rest. Sam was right, there were already ideas forming in his mind. He couldn't go too heavy, this was built for a fairly light body after all, but he could figure something out.

"Thank you." Dean said and this time he really meant it.

Sam called his friend who agreed to come over after work which would be in the late afternoon. Until then they had a lot of time to kill.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked, gesturing around the living room.

Dean would have liked to start looking through the stuff in the basement to see what he could use for the new car, for some stupid reason he felt excited like a kid in a candy store, but that was out of option. According to Sam only temporarily but Dean would believe that when he actually was back in the basement.

"That friend of yours." Why not use the time to get some information? "How does an incubus end up with a vampire? Isn't that kind of an odd friendship?" Dean didn't know much about the supernatural community but this seemed kinda strange.

Now Sam made an amused sound.

"Work." He answered.

"He got in trouble with the law?" Dean shook his head with a smile.

"Not exactly." For some reason that seemed to amuse Sam even more. "His nest owns a blood bank, we handle their legal issues."

Dean had never quite figured out what Sam did for a living. He was some kind of lawyer but didn't have to go to court – where was the fun in that, then? – instead he had to check contracts and things like that. Or something. It sounded boring. Office work. But apparently it paid off.

"So he works at a blood bank?" Dean raised an eyebrow. It made sense, though.

"No, he does something else." Sam said but didn't elaborate. "But he's second in command of his nest and has to take care of his share of the nest's business."

Dean nodded to that but his mind was on something else.

"You, an Incubus, take care of the legal issues of a business run by vampires." He summed up the information, a picture starting to form in his mind.

Sam gave him a smile as if he was proud of Dean putting together the pieces.

"You're starting to see the bigger picture. That's the community, we look out for each other."

Apparently Sam hadn't been joking when he spoke about the community. A nauseous feeling settled in Dean's guts and he needed to swallow against the urge to throw up. Vampires running a blood bank, werewolves controlling the Food Market. And Sam.

"How many?"

"Of us?" Sam shrugged. "The community owns the city."

Dean had to excuse himself, this was too much. He locked the door of his room, something he hadn't done in a while, and dropped on his bed.

He saw the pattern clearly now. He didn't have numbers but thinking back to the dimensions of the Food Market, there had to be thousands of supernatural creatures living in this city. And just like Sam, they blended in. With normal lives, normal jobs, watching out for each other.

How far did it go? What did they own? What had they infiltrated?

His eyes fell on the car in the corner, the sign with the message to call 911 still on top.

What about the police? Hospitals? Banks? Everything?

His mind swirled and he closed his eyes.

The police question was answered later that day with the arrival of Benny, the vampire. Or rather Detective Benjamin Lafitte.

"You must be Dean." The man, vampire, held his hand out and reluctantly Dean shook it. "Nice to meet you."

Just like Sam he looked normal. Just a normal guy with a warm Cajun accent.

They sat down, Benny in one of the chairs and Dean on the couch as far away from him as possible with Sam a solid wall between him and the vampire.

Despite Sam's repeated affirmation that Benny wasn't here to harm him, Dean still felt uneasy in his presence.

Turned out that Benny in fact was only there to talk. However, what Dean learned in the next half an hour, was more disturbing than anything his mind had come up on its own.

Benny worked homicide. He covered it up when things went out of hand. For example if Sam's name or address came up, the case would get assigned to somebody from the community. So even if Dean had succeeded with his little plan and somebody would have called 911 it wouldn't have done him any good.

But there were others. They had people keeping the newspapers clean and people whose sole purpose was to protect the community, people who would kill to keep the community a secret.

What the community didn't own, they had infiltrated. And they were everywhere.

After they had dropped that bomb on Dean, Sam and Benny talked for a while, exchanging stories over a beer like good old friends, which left Dean out but he couldn't follow the conversation anyway. His mind was swirling, this was far worse than he'd feared.

"Excuse me." He mumbled and without looking at them he hurried upstairs. He felt their eyes on him and only breathed easier when he had his door between them and him.

"They own the whole fucking city." Dean fisted his hair with both hands. He didn't make it to his bed, instead he leaned against the wall right next to the door. He didn't even have the energy to close the door properly and so he could still hear their voices from downstairs.

"So that's the human you're making all the fuss about." He heard Benny saying and for some stupid reason it warmed his heart. Sam was making a fuss about him?

"He looks a little ragged." Benny continued. "You keeping him up all night?" He teased like a good friend would do.

"It's not that." Sam answered and his tone alone made Dean straighten up. "He has nightmares."

Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes to this betrayal. How could Sam just casually expose him like this? He had no right.

"Given his situation …"

"It's not that." Sam continued. Dean reached for the door but he knew he couldn't prevent Sam from saying what he was about to say. "Something happened to him. Before me."

With the knob of the door in hand Dean froze.

_How could you?_

He'd trusted Sam, dammit.

There was a pause before Benny spoke again.

"I could have a look." He offered and Dean's heart stopped. "See what I can find."

_No!_ , he wanted to scream but his chest felt too tight and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. If Benny ran his name he would find … and then Sam would know … and … and …

Black spots danced in his vision and for some reason he was on his knees now.

He only heard Sam's response from a distance, muffled and far away like he was under water.

"Thanks but I don't want to spy after him." Sam said. "If he wants to tell me he's going to do it on his own terms."

"You really have a thing for this one, haven't you?" Dean heard the words over the rushing of his own blood in his ears but they didn't make sense. "I should leave now. And you should go and check on him. He's freaking out up there."


	15. Chapter 15

Sam didn't have the fine senses of a vampire so he'd no clue what was going on upstairs but if Benny said Dean was in trouble, he was.

Without even a glance in Benny's direction, he would find his way out on his own just fine, Sam stormed upstairs, taking two steps at once.

"Dean?" He forced himself to stop at the door and not just burst in, the last thing Dean needed was for him to step over the boundaries he'd set. The door was slightly ajar, far enough for him to make out Dean, who was kneeling on the floor, his whole body heaving. He was keening and probably hyperventilating. Shit.

"Dean?" He asked again, more gently now. "Can I come in?"

Dean didn't say anything, he probably couldn't, but he jerked his head to indicate a nod. Or maybe it was just an uncontrolled jerk and he hadn't even realized that Sam was there but Sam took it as permission and gently pushed the door open far enough to squeeze through. Then he was kneeling beside Dean who flinched away from Sam with a wounded sound.

"Dean." Sam kept his hands to himself, every fiber of his body wanted to touch, to comfort, but he saw that Dean didn't welcome it. Not now. He'd no idea what had triggered this but Dean was caught in a full-blown panic attack and Sam didn't know what to do.

"Shh, it's okay." He tried again and for the first time Dean turned his head just far enough to glance at him. "It's okay, Benny left. It's just you and me now."

Benny was his best guess but he couldn't for the life of his think of something the vampire might had said or done to freak Dean out like this.

"Just breathe." Sam tried to focus on the task at hand. "In and out, easy. Can you do that?"

Dean seemed to calm down a bit, his breathing still way too fast and short but when Sam now reached for him, he didn't flinch back. However, the muscles under Sam's hand felt tight and Dean was vibrating with tension.

"You're okay, everything is fine." Sam repeated nonsense on autopilot. It didn't matter what he said, it was his voice that had a soothing effect, he'd learned that from the nightmares. A comforting touch never failed either so he started to stroke Dean's neck and shoulder in long, even strokes.

"In and out, you're doing good." It took several minutes and by then Sam's legs had long gone numb but finally Dean had calmed down and was now heavily leaning on Sam.

"This is embarrassing." He said his first words and Sam couldn't have been happier.

"Welcome back." Sam closed his arms around him to a full hug and for a moment Dean melted into him, just letting Sam comfort him. "You good now?"

Dean nodded into his chest but didn't loosen his grip on Sam's shirt. When Dean had changed from flinching away to clinging to him Sam couldn't tell, he just enjoyed the closeness he felt to the man in his arms.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Dean shook his head.

"Okay, how about getting up, then?" Sam suggested. "Let us at least sit on the bed. I can't feel my legs anymore."

Dean made a sound that could have been approving and together they hauled each other to their feet. Sam swayed on his numb legs and flopped ungracefully on Dean's bed. With a little more grace Dean sat down next to him. His breathing was still quicker than normal, like he'd just ran a marathon and he was sweating and his hands, dangling between his knees, trembled visibly.

"Water?" Sam asked while he carefully moved his legs to get the circulation going again. Dean didn't answer but Sam went to the bathroom to get him a glass of water anyway and Dean accepted it with a weak little smile.

"Sorry, you had to see this." Dean said when he'd finished the water and could speak again without sounding like he'd gargled with shredded glass.

"Don't." Sam took the glass from his hands. "I know you don't want to talk about it but I know that something happened to you. Someone hurt you. And sometimes those things come back to haunt you."

Dean avoided his eyes and looked at the floor instead.

"Dean, when I look at you." Sam licked his lips, searching for the right words. "I don't see a weak man, I don't see a victim. I see a survivor, I see a fighter. What you did with that car." He nodded towards said car in the corner. "That's not the work of somebody who's given up, that's the work of somebody with a strong will, somebody who fights."

"It was a stupid idea." Dean said. "Even if somebody called 911 ..."

"You didn't know that. And there was still the chance that somebody choose to help you immediately." Sam had to admit. That was the reason he couldn't risk something like this happen again.

"Why didn't you let Benny run my name?" Dean suddenly changed the topic.

Sam needed a moment to follow that jump but then the proverbial light bulb came up over his head. Dean had heard them. Had he freaked out because Benny could scoop around in his past? Because of what he may find?

And he must have heard that Sam had told Benny about the nightmares. Which probably hadn't been Sam's smartest move if he was honest.

"I should have kept my mouth shut." He admitted. "What happens here, between you and me, should stay between you and me. I'm sorry." Why he'd told Benny in the first place he couldn't even tell.

Dean nodded to that but Sam didn't get the feeling that he was forgiven.

"As for the other thing." Sam continued. "Like I told Benny, it's your choice when or if you tell me." Hesitantly he laid an arm around Dean's shoulder and this time the other man didn't tense up. "I'd like to know, that's true, but it's your story to tell."

He waited for Dean to speak, maybe to even tell him about his past, but Dean didn't say a word.

"I just want you to know that I'm here." Sam added. "Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."

They sat through another moment of silence before Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"How about we order some pizza and watch a movie?"

"Sounds good." Dean seemed relived by that change of topic.

They had pizza but exhausted like he was from the night and his panic attack, Dean fell asleep halfway through the movie.

Sam couldn't tell how but somehow Dean ended up sleeping with his head in Sam's lap and with Sam absently massaging his scalp.

It felt nice, though. Sam finished the movie but he didn't pay attention to what was happening on the screen. His focus was on Dean's soft hair under his fingers, it had grown quite long by now and he probably should offer to cut it, but right now he just enjoyed the silky feeling.

Dean didn't seem to mind either. He slept soundly without a shadow of a nightmare and he didn't really wake up when Sam decided it was time for bed. He just padded after Sam, dropped on his side of the bed and was back to sleeping like a rock a minute later.

Sam watched him for a moment, a fond smile on his lips, before he crawled in next to him and switched off the light.

"Night, Dean."

First thing the next morning Sam made a few calls and got an appointment in the early afternoon with somebody to have a look at his property and to take measurements.

"A fence, uh?" Dean said when Sam finished the call. Putting the phone back in his pocket Sam tried to figure out Dean's emotions. If anything Dean was hard to read.

"It's the easiest solution." Sam sat down at the table. With the calls out of the way he had the peace to nurse his coffee.

Dean hmmed to that.

"Once the fence is installed I'll redo the spell and you have the basement back."

"Lucky me." Dean shook his head and finished his coffee like one would down a shot.

Sam flinched at that but he guessed he deserved it. What didn't make it better was that the hunger was gnawing at him. With his outburst he'd burned everything he had and the encounter with the stranger at the bar had barely been a drop in the ocean.

However, he didn't know how to bring it up. This seemed like the worst time ever to bring up Dean's obligation to have sex with him. He would have to feed before he went back to work on Monday, that much was clear, but hell if he knew how to get Dean on board with that idea without making him feel like he had to make amends.

The fence guy was right on time and Sam breathed easier when he could escape the loft for a little while. The tension between him and Dean was palpable, there were just too many things piling up between them, and it felt good to get away for a moment. Sam felt guilty for that but shoved that feeling aside and focused on the man from the fence company who tried to sell him an high-end security fence by pointing out the dangerous neighborhood and the alarming rise of break-ins in this area.

Sam had to bite back a bitter laugh. Break-ins wasn't what he was worried about.

The loft didn't have windows on the front but when they moved over to the side Sam could make out Dean's silhouette behind the glass front. He didn't try to get fence guy's attention but Sam felt Dean's eyes burning holes in his skull the whole time they were on this side of the building.

Sam didn't take the high-end security fence and settled for a way cheaper model instead. This one had the advantage that it could get installed rather quickly so Dean would get his basement back some time next week.

On his way back in Sam stopped at the work bench where the butchered vibrator still lay like Dean had left it. Sick of that sight Sam wrapped the pieces in an old newspaper and threw the bundle in the trash. After that he felt better.

Back upstairs he dropped on the couch, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"That was quite a talker." Dean joined him.

"I think he gets provision so he tried to turn this place into Fort Knox." He huffed out a laugh.

"You still spent a lot of money on a stupid fence." Dean said in a low voice.

"Money isn't an issue." Sam tried to reassure him. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while.

"Dean?" He broke the moment with a sigh but he needed to know.

"Hmm?"

"Do you hate me?" His biggest worry so far had been that Dean feared him, however, after seeing the destroyed toy he'd realized that there might be more to be worried about. Dean had every right to hate him. And after his betrayal yesterday with telling Benny about Dean's nightmares …

"What?" Blindsided by that question Dean just blinked at him.

"Do you hate me?" Sam repeated his question, having a close eye on Dean's face to catch every nuance of emotion flashing over his features.

Dean took his time to answer.

"I know I should hate you." He finally said. "But I don't." He looked him straight in the eye now. "I don't know why, maybe I'm just stupid, but I don't fear you and I don't hate you."

"You're not stupid." Sam reached over to take his hand. Dean was a lot of things, and he had barely scratched the surface here, but stupid wasn't one of them.

Dean just looked at their joined hands for a long second before he raised them up to dust a kiss on Sam's knuckles.

Sam's breath hitched and a tingle settled deep in his guts.

"Dean." He said and halfheartedly tried to draw his hand back. Dean just smirked against the back of his hand, the brush of his lips on his skin sending shivers down Sam's spine. God, he was hungry.

"I know you need to feed."


	16. Chapter 16

It was essential for Dean to know about Sam's need to feed and by now he could tell how hungry Sam was from the tension around his eyes alone. If he didn't feed more regularly he would get wrinkles from that.

However, Dean appreciated the fact that Sam tried to keep their interactions to a bare minimum.

So Dean knew exactly how hungry Sam was right now and he was pretty sure that he wouldn't make it over the weekend without some rolling in the sheets. Not that Dean was complaining, quite the opposite, sex with Sam was awesome and if they had met under different circumstances they would be in a happy relationship by now, Dean was pretty sure about that. Under this circumstances, however, everything was just fucked up. Dean sighed inwardly.

It was kinda adorable how Sam tiptoed around the topic, though.

With the rest of the afternoon and the whole evening ahead with nothing else to do for both of them than to feel miserable and awkward, Dean took the initiative. At least in bed he knew what to do and what was expected from him. Ironically enough, that was save ground.

It did help that in bed the roles were reversed to what he would have expected in a situation like this, as if he'd ever expected a situation like this. The more selfish and focused on his own pleasure he was, the more Sam got out of their little sessions and Dean could go with some feel good time right now. Not that he would let Sam hanging, though, he wasn't that kind of asshole.

Dean brushed one more kiss on Sam's knuckles, smirking at the reaction he could coax out of the other man easy like this. Sam was really hungry, this was going to be a long night.

"Dean, we don't have to …"

Dean shut him up by sucking Sam's thumb in his mouth.

Surprised Sam gasped but didn't drew his hand back.

"Hmm?" He hummed around the pad of the thumb on his tongue, looking at Sam with an innocent upward glance. Lazily he swirled his tongue around the digit, making a show out of it when he noticed Sam's hooded eyes focused on his mouth.

After a moment he let go of the thumb but before Sam could complain about the loss Dean was kneeling on the couch, straddling Sam's lap. There faces were only inches apart and Dean felt the soft puffs of Sam's breath on his lips.

Without a second thought Dean buried his hands in Sam's thick hair and brought their mouths together.

Reluctantly at first Sam kissed him back but then it took him only a second to hungrily suck on Dean's tongue. Dean moaned into the heat of Sam's mouth and welcomed the taste of his saliva which went straight to his dick.

"Make me feel good." He murmured into Sam's mouth, not willing to break the kiss. "Make me forget." Dean just wanted to stop thinking, to stop worrying. For a few hours he just wanted to lay in Sam's arms and don't care about a thing in the world.

"I'll make it good." Sam promised, his roaming hands finally settling down on Dean's ass, kneading the muscles through the fabric of his jeans.

Dean had no doubt that Sam would make it good for him. Never before had he been with a partner who was so in tune with him, who knew exactly how to worship his body and which words to whisper to coax mind-blowing orgasms out of him.

Dean came the first time right there on the couch, sitting in Sam's lap, spilling his release over Sam's hand.

With Sam's other hand firmly pressed to his lower back Dean was in no danger of falling off when he arched his back in a toneless cry and then he slumped forward, head resting on Sam's shoulder.

"That was good." He mumbled.

"It's going to get better." Sam promised and Dean was too wrung out to complain when Sam carried him upstairs like an overgrown toddler with his limps dangling and his face buried in Sam's neck. Damn, Sam was a strong guy.

Dosed up with the Incubus' saliva Dean had the recovery time of a teenager on a hormone high so by the time they reached the bed he was up for round two.

They didn't leave the bedroom until the next morning and by then Sam walked funny but was too well fed to move much around anyway.

"We're good?" Sam asked over a much needed coffee for breakfast.

"We're good." Dean confirmed around a mouth full of pancakes. They had skipped dinner and had burned a lot of calories instead so Dean wolfed down his breakfast like a starving man.

They were both too full and exhausted to do much after breakfast and settled for a lazy day on the couch with a Star Wars marathon. You can never go wrong with that, Dean figured, his feet in Sam's lap who absently rubbed them with strong hands.

_It could be worse_ , was Dean's last thought before he drifted off half an hour into the first movie.

On Monday Sam went back to work but came home early on Wednesday when the fence was installed. There was no real reason for him to be there, he was more in the way than anything else, at least telling from what Dean could see from his spot at the window. But Sam wasn't there to observe the workers, he knew that. Sam was there to keep an eye on Dean.

It would have been easy to get the attention of one of the workers, they were literally just right outside his window, and Sam couldn't risk that. Dean got that. And if he was honest, he would have tried. He had no idea what the man could even do to help him but he would have tried.

With Sam around he didn't even get the chance and somewhere deep in his mind he was glad about that. And that scared him more than anything else.

It took them two days to finish the fence, a solid concrete thing, ugly but fitting right in the rundown industrial neighborhood. Dean couldn't see the front but he'd bet on an equally solid gate there.

Sam didn't waste time. As soon as the fence was finished and the workers gone, he locked himself in his room to redo the spell.

"Okay." He came back out a while later. Dean stopped in his tracks, he hadn't been pacing the living room the whole time … he just needed to move around a little bit.

A wide grin on his face Sam came down the stairs and nodded towards the elevator.

"Give it a try."

Dean didn't have to be told twice.

"Thank you." He couldn't help the stupid feeling of gratitude tightening his chest when he stepped over the invisible barrier into the elevator.

"I told you, you'd get it back." Sam reminded him softly. Together they rode down to the basement where Dean had a curious look around.

It was almost like he'd left it. Sam had put back a few tools and had cleaned up after him but that was it. Even the piles of useful stuff he'd sorted earlier and had never thought he'd come back to were still like he'd left them. Plus all the stuff he didn't have the time to explore earlier.

Dean noticed all that but his first way, however, was straight for the front windows. From here he had been able to see all the way down the driveway to the road but now the new fence blocked the way. Like he'd guessed the gate was as solid as the rest of the fence, there was no way for him now to get the attention of one of the cars passing by.

"What do you think?" Sam asked after a moment and with a sigh Dean stepped back from the window.

"It could use some graffiti, it looks depressing." He turned just in time to see the flash of hurt on Sam's face. "Don't worry, the outside is probably already tagged." He tried to lift the mood and Sam rewarded him with a little smile.

Sam let him be for a while and Dean started to sort through the scrap metal while a picture of the finished car formed in his mind. The set Sam had bought was meant for a rather light car, the cheap engine not really built to carry more than a few ounces of plastic.

"Next time I ask him to look online." Dean muttered to himself. "There has to better quality stuff for model builders."

He paused, a piece of bent metal still in hand, and thought about what he'd just said. For one, he was already thinking about how to get a better result next time and second, why was he so certain that Sam would even buy him more stuff? He didn't have to buy him the first car. He didn't have to go out of his way with all this, the fence, the basement, just to please Dean.

Sam didn't have to bother with all this and could keep Dean locked up in his bedroom as the sex slave he basically was. Except that Dean didn't see himself as Sam's sex slave and he didn't get the feeling that Sam did.

"Did I mention that this is fucked up?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Over the next few days the car started to take shape and Dean couldn't help but think back to that one car he'd built so many years ago. This one looked different, he'd made sure of that, but it still reminded him of the other one.

And wasn't it sad that Sam – an Incubus, a supernatural monster who kept Dean as some kind of convenient food supply – was more supporting and understanding than his own father?

Sam asked how the project was going, he came downstairs to bring him food and something to drink when Dean forgot the time and of course to have a look at the progress but he left Dean alone most of the time and let him work in peace.

Still well fed Sam tended to fall asleep easily and more than once Dean found him on the couch when he finally made his way upstairs late in the evening.

Watching the peacefully sleeping man Dean tried to figure out his feelings towards Sam. Complicated, was the closest description he could come up with. He wasn't good with feelings anyway.

Letting Sam sleep on the couch for a little while longer Dean went upstairs for a shower and then changed into his sleepwear. Only then he nudged Sam awake far enough to get him in bed and then slipped in next to him.

Dean didn't have nightmares over the last week or so and technically he could sleep in his own bed just fine but for some reason he slept better in Sam's. That bed was ridiculous big anyway. Did he use to have orgies in here or what?

Laying on his side Dean watched Sam who was already back to dreamland. Whatever Sam had used to do before Dean had stepped into his life, he'd stopped that completely. Except for that one trip to get some quick random sex Sam had only been out for work and stuff like the groceries. As far as Dean knew he hadn't seen any friends or had been out to party or whatever.

Neither had Dean so it seemed only fair but a little voice in the back of his mind begged to differ. Dean was cut off from life, that came with his situation and he'd accepted it. Sam on the other hand was free to do whatever he wanted. So why didn't he go out more often. Or at all?

With that thoughts circling in his mind Dean finally slipped into sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Sam was glad they'd made it over the rough spot without lasting damage. At least he hoped so. But seeing the enthusiasm with which Dean was throwing himself into his new project, Sam dared to hope.

The first time Dean forgot to make dinner he apologized over and over and asked Sam to remind him if necessary so it won't happen again. Since Dean had taken over the cooking they hadn't missed a meal and for some reason now Dean felt obliged to provide Sam with a home-cooked dinner every day. Not that Sam minded.

He didn't mind the Chinese take-out they had the day Dean forgot to cook either. The next time Dean was too engrossed in his work to think about dinner Sam made sandwiches instead.

"At least you didn't try to cook." Dean said in a poor attempt to cover his embarrassment with humor.

"You would punish me with oatmeal gruel for a week if I tried."

"Damn right I would." Dean agreed and took a bite from his sandwich. "But you make a decent sandwich."

Sam only grinned to that. "How's the car coming around?"

"Good." Dean swallowed. "I think I found a way to cut down the weight and still getting the shape I'm looking for."

Sam listened to him talking about his car, then Sam told him about his day in the office before they went over to the pool table for a little game. It was a good evening.

What truly surprised Sam was how easily they had slipped into the habit of sharing Sam's bed. Since his last bad night Dean hadn't slept in his own bed once. He got restless from time to time during the nights but as far as Sam could tell he didn't have one really bad nightmare since then. They didn't talk about it and Sam could live with that. Just like he could live with waking up to Dean curled all around him. Seriously, asleep that man became an octopus.

Sam had to take care of annoying morning wood in the shower more often than not but no way he was forcing himself on Dean like this. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Dean to get the wrong idea that he somehow had to pay him for the privilege of sleeping in his bed or something.

Dean got up with him in the morning and they had breakfast together before Sam went to work and Dean went back to working on his car.

"Hey, Sam." Ellen stood in his office door, giving him a truly welcomed break from the rather boring case he was working on. "You have any plans for the twentieth?"

"Are you asking me for a date?" Sam raised an amused eyebrow. "I'm flattered but … how do I break it to you … I'm gay."

"Smartass." She smacked the folder she was holding playfully in his direction. "It's my birthday and some idiot made it a social norm that you have to invite friends and family to celebrate that." She made a face. "Saturday the twentieth, eight o'clock, my place. Bring your boyfriend."

"My … what …?" Sam stammered at that.

"Didn't you say you were seeing someone?" Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "It didn't work out? Damn, I was looking forward to talking to him about that car you bought him." She shook her head and only with a delay she added: "I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't too hard on you. The break-up I mean."

Sam stared at her for a long moment before he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. Not exactly because this was funny but more out of the absurdity of his relationship with Dean.

"Oh, I am still seeing him." Sam corrected. "But I think it's a little too early to introduce him to my friends."

"Oh, okay." Ellen frowned at him but let it be. "But you're coming. I'm counting on you. With my family being there I need at least one decent human being around."

"I'm not sure if I'm the right one for that." He muttered after her but low enough so she couldn't hear him.

For a while now his only plans for the weekends had been staying home with Dean so this would be a nice change. However, he felt kinda bad with the thought of leaving Dean alone to go to a party.

"Of course you're going." Was Dean's reaction when Sam brought the invitation up that evening. He left out the part that his boyfriend was invited as well, though.

"I don't know." Sam fiddled with his fork. He would like to go, yes, but for one it seemed unfair for Dean and he wasn't sure if that wouldn't trigger something for Dean.

"I'm a big boy." Dean assured him. "I can survive an evening alone." _Without panicking_ , hung unspoken in the air. "And you really should go out once in a while instead of hanging you with my boring ass all the time."

"Dunno, I like your ass." Sam smiled at him and nodded. "Okay, I'll go."

With that settled Sam had to face the next problem. A birthday party called for a gift. But he had a few days to come up with something. For now he just enjoyed the view when Dean bent more than necessary to put his plate in the dishwasher.

"What?" He came up, a mischievous smile on his lips. "You said you like my ass."

Sam was still comfortably fed, a fact Dean was aware of for sure, so he took Dean's teasing as the fun it was without searching for the deeper meaning.

"I'm almost done with the car." Dean changed the topic. "Just have to decide on the paint-job." Now he rubbed the back of his head as if he wasn't sure how to ask what was on his mind.

"You're set with the paint?" Sam asked, sensing where this was heading. "If you need more I can get you more after work tomorrow."

Bracing himself on the back of his chair Dean gave him a relieved smile.

"I was thinking a dark, almost black, metallic blue." Dean's face lit up.

Sam had seen the car the other day so he had no problem imagine it with that color. A blue like that would emphasize the lines of the car. Dean didn't go for a real car model this time but what he'd come up with could pass as the real thing with a touch of scrap. Not at all what Sam had pictured when he'd heard that Dean wanted to built something out of scrap metal.

"Hmm." Sam made. "I'll see if I can get something like that."

The result was even better than Sam had imagined. Proudly Dean brought the car upstairs for a test drive. This was the first time Sam saw the car in motion but judging by the way Dean handled it via the remote he had some practice. Sam made a mental note to keep enough batteries handy.

After a few rounds around the loft Dean brought the car to a halt at Sam's feet.

"Want to give it a try?" He asked, holding the remote out to him.

Sam swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat. This was Dean's baby. The one thing he'd spent countless hours with. The only thing that was truly his.

"I just hope I won't crash it." Sam accepted the remote with a butterfly feeling in his stomach.

"I'll kill you in your sleep." Dean promised darkly but it felt good that Dean felt comfortably enough around Sam that he could joke with him like this.

"Okay, then." Carefully Sam set the car in motion.

"My grandmother drives fast than that."

Sam didn't let the words irritate him and after a few rounds he got the hang of it.

"Not bad." Dean nodded and set the stakes higher by setting up a course with books.

Sam didn't stand a chance but he had fun racing against Dean. They spent the next hour maneuvering the car through different courses and Sam was happy enough when he managed to get through without too many bumps into the books outlining the course. He knew there was no way he could beat Dean anyway.

"Winner!" Dean declared with his fist in the air and a wide grin on his face.

Sam hung his head in defeat but he happily granted Dean his victory.

The next few days the buzzing of the car was a constant noise in the loft, not that Sam minded. Dean was happy and Sam was pretty sure that the enthusiasm would die down soon and Dean would put his mind on a new project. In the end it was the building part that held the real fun for Dean. He was already complaining about the a weak engine and the cheap remote control.

"We can see if we find something better online." Sam offered from his place on the couch while Dean stood somewhere behind him, playing with his car.

"We can?" Dean perked up to that and Sam noticed that he'd picked up on the _we_.

"After I've found the right present for Ellen." Sam gestured at his laptop with way too many tabs open and not the right idea in sight.

"Perfume?" Dean suggested.

"She's not that kind of woman."

"Does she read?"

"No idea what."

"Concert tickets?"

"Nah." Sam dismissed that too. He'd no idea what kind of music Ellen liked.

"What do you know about her?" Now he stopped the car and turned his attention to Sam.

"Good question." He muttered. What did he know about her? Maybe he should get her a good whiskey.

The sound of the car started again and now Dean used the legs of the couch table and Sam's feet as an obstacle course.

"Dean." Sam whined when the car bumped into his foot. But then he stopped and had a real look at the car at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Dean hurried to get the car away, probably knowing that Sam wasn't in the mood.

Sam followed the car with his eyes, an idea forming in his head.

"Ehm, Dean?"

"I put it away." Dean stopped the car and carried it over to the corner where it had been parked since it was finished.

"No, it's okay." He hated it when Dean fell into that obedient behavior of his. It didn't happen that often anymore but whenever Sam was in a bad mood Dean walked on eggshells.

"It's just … the car …" He searched for the right words. He didn't want to just take it from Dean but he had no idea what to offer him in return.

"Yeah?" Dean sat down in the chair next to him and watched him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

"It would be the perfect gift for Ellen."

Dean stared at him in clear disbelieve. "That thing?"

"That thing." Sam nodded. "It's awesome and she told me that she'd always wanted a car like that as a kid but her parents never bought her one. It would be perfect."

"You could buy her a real one." Dean offered.

Sam licked his lips, thinking. "If you want to keep it for yourself, I'm going to buy her another one." He said, watching Dean closely. "No problem. But if you just think it's not good enough or something like that …"

Dean actually blushed at that. "You really think it's good?"

"Is it good? Dean, I'd pay money for it." He meant it and he figured that this would impress Dean more than just saying how good it was.

"Not that I have any use for money." Dean answered but accepted the words as the compliment they were.

"True." Sam had to admit. "But I'd really like to buy it. If there's anything special you want …" He spread his hands in a helpless manner. So far Dean had never really asked for anything. Okay, the paint but other than that? Maybe he'd feel more comfortable with asking for something if it was part of a fair deal and not begging on his part.

"Can I think about that?" Dean asked.

"Sure. I still have a few days to come up with something."

Later that evening they sat together, watching TV, when Dean all of a sudden said: "I know what I want for the car."

"What?" Now he was curious what Dean would ask for.

"I want coffee and pie."

"Coffee and pie?" That wasn't what Sam had expected.

"In a coffee shop."


	18. Chapter 18

The idea had popped into Dean's mind almost immediately. Okay, after he was over the shock that apparently Sam thought his little car was worth something. But then the idea was there. He just needed a few hours to gather the courage to actually name his price.

"Coffee and pie." He said and when Sam just repeated the words with a confused expression, Dean clarified his request: "In a coffee shop."

"Dean." Sam slumped in to himself with sigh of sorrow. "You know that I can't do that."

"Hear me out." Dean begged. Over the last few hours he'd thought this through and he was certain that Sam would at least consider this once he'd listened to the details.

"An hour, that's all I want." Dean explained and Sam listened, that was all he could ask for. "You'll be at my side all the time and c'mon, you probably know a coffee shop owned by someone from your community. We have our coffee and come straight back afterwards. You can lock me in my room until you've set up the spell again. No tricks, I won't try something, I promise. Hell, you can search me beforehand for hidden messages. Please, man." Towards the end his voice got a desperate edge but at this point he just wanted to get out. If it was only for an hour.

Sam didn't say a word for a long moment, he just studied Dean with an unreadable expression.

"Let me think about it, okay?" Sam asked, almost hesitantly.

"Sure." Dean replied easily but inwardly he wanted to cheer. Sam hadn't rejected the idea on the spot which would almost certainly lead to a yes.

He didn't bring up the idea the rest of the evening and on the surface they just enjoyed some stupid TV before they turned in. But Dean practically felt Sam thinking, felt the occasional glances in his direction. After his attempt to escape he couldn't blame Sam for doubting him but he meant it. He just wanted to get out for a moment. No hidden agenda here. He just hoped Sam believed him.

In bed they lay side by side without touching and for a long time without sleeping. By the time Dean finally drifted off to sleep he was pretty sure that Sam was still wide awake with the wheels turning in his head.

"Okay." Sam said out of the blue when they sat together over breakfast the next morning.

"Really?" Dean didn't need to ask what he was talking about.

"Under a few conditions." Sam raised his hand to dampen Dean's enthusiasm.

"Of course." Dean nodded to that, he hadn't expected that Sam would just open the doors and let him out.

"Don't get me wrong here." Sam back-pedaled. "I trust you, I do, but I've to make sure …" He didn't finish the sentence, unable to look Dean in the eye for the last part.

"Whatever you think is necessary."

"You're too creative for your own good." Sam smiled at him. "So I want to search you first. Naked."

"Full body cavity search?" Dean raised an amused eyebrow and tried very hard to not think about the Food Market. "Kinky."

Sam just rolled his eyes at him. "And I pick out your clothes. While we're out you don't talk to anybody, you don't leave my side. No bathroom breaks. We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." They shook hands and Dean felt like he'd just won the lottery. "When?"

"How about Saturday?"

"Awesome."

The night to Saturday Dean hardly slept and he was up early with the feeling of pleasant anticipation he guessed was connected to Christmas mornings.

Sam was still sleeping so Dean slipped out of bed quietly and padded over to his own room for a shower and with the upcoming thorough search in mind, and in not exactly a good way, he made it an equally thorough shower. Then he went downstairs to set up some coffee. Not that he needed it, he was hyperactive already and he would get some later anyway but he needed something to do.

Too nervous to eat or to enjoy his coffee Dean just made sure that there was enough left for Sam while he debated if he should wake the other man or not. They hadn't set a time for their trip, a fact Dean regretted now, but he was pretty sure five in the morning wasn't what Sam had in mind.

By the time Sam finally came downstairs Dean had found out that early morning TV sucked even more than daytime TV, that they needed new magazines and that the sunrise over industrial buildings could be breathtaking.

"Wish I had a camera." Dean muttered at the sight of the latter.

"I could get you one." Sam offered who'd come up behind Dean without him noticing. "Didn't know you're into photography."

"I'm not." Dean admitted. "But seeing this I wish I was." He gestured at the bank of windows which gave an excellent view on the rising sun.

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam asked knowingly and poured himself a coffee.

Dean didn't answer that one.

"We still have some time." Leaning against the counter Sam stirred his coffee and then licked the spoon clean before he laid it aside. Dean tried to not stare at his tongue darting out.

"I'd rather come in after the morning rush." Sam continued, he probably hadn't noticed Dean's staring. Or so Dean hoped.

Then Sam bent just a little more than necessary to get the milk out of the fridge. Okay, he probably had noticed. And if not, he for sure did now because Dean's interest sparked at the sight of his firm butt in the well fitting jeans and that was something Sam always noticed. He could smell it or something, freaking incubus.

"Like what you see?" Sam grinned at him over his shoulder and made no attempt to conceal his rear end. Quite the opposite.

Dean licked his lips. They had some time to kill. And Sam wanted to search him, every part of him, thoroughly. Why not turn this from something humiliating, and no he wasn't thinking about his arrival at the Food Market, just no, into something more pleasurable?

Picking up on Dean's mood, Sam sauntered over with a lascivious smile on his lips.

"You want me to search you now?" Sam asked, his voice already a little husky. Damn, he got sexed up fast. Not that Dean was complaining. He swallowed to get some moisture back in his suddenly too dry mouth.

"Go ahead." Dean spread his arms in an inviting gesture and hoped that Sam would take the little tremble in his voice for arousal.

Sam helped him out of his clothes, he hadn't bothered with more than sweatpants and a T-shirt anyway.

Sam's fingers ghosted over his naked chest, leaving goosebumps on their way to his shoulder and back while Sam stepped around him. Dean screwed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. This was worse than his first day with Sam.

Dean could almost feel the cold tiles under his feet, smell the disinfectant. He remembered the clinical touch of the man examining him in front of all the others. Like a piece of cattle.

"Dean?" Sam asked but his voice was almost lost in the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Dean tried to stand still, all thoughts of sex forgotten he just wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

"Dean?" In front of him now, which was better. Slightly.

When Sam touched him at the shoulder, Dean stumbled away from him. He couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what?" He said louder than he'd intended. "Screw this." With shaking hands he gathered his clothes. "Just take the car and let's forget about this. Okay?"

He stumbled his way up the stairs but made it to his room before he lost his last shred of self-control.

Dry sobs clogging his throat he fell to his knees.

"Dean?" Of course, Sam had followed him. "Can I come in?"

The question was kinda ridiculous because Dean had forgotten to close the door behind himself and now Sam had a pretty good view on Dean's butt naked ass.

Dean must have made a confirming sound because Sam knelt next to him a second later. After he'd taken a moment to get the comforter from the bed and draped it over Dean.

Feeling absurdly relieved by that gesture – Sam had seen him naked how many times now? – Dean drew it closer around himself.

"I'm sorry." Sam broke the moment of silence. "I didn't mean to …"

Dean nodded to that, not quite trusting his voice just yet. He knew Sam didn't mean to upset him.

"You should have told me how uncomfortable I made you."

Dean even managed a smile to that, Sam was so utterly clueless but he tried. He tried so hard and that made it so much harder for Dean to make up his mind how to feel towards him.

"It was one of your conditions." Dean tried his voice and it didn't come out as distressed as he'd feared.

"Dean, I'm not a stone-cold monster." Sam let out a sigh and shifted to sit more comfortable on the floor. Not easy with his freakish long legs, Dean noticed with a hint of amusement. "You can talk to me. The last thing I want to do is to trigger you."

"I know." Dean sighed and leaned more comfortably against the bed frame.

"You want to tell me about what happened?" Sam asked, not pushing, just letting Dean know that he would listen if Dean wanted to talk.

"You know how they get their humans for the Food Market?" Dean stretched out his legs, this was something he could talk about.

"I try to not think too closely about that." Sam admitted.

"They tranq people walking down the street." Dean explained. "Next thing you know is waking up in a truck like a piece of cattle. When they let you out they give you a nice little demonstration of what happens if you don't cooperate. You take that one to the heart." Dean snorted at that with a side glance at Sam to see if he got what he was referring to.

"Before they put you in those cells like a steak on display they have to make sure that you're fit and healthy." His voice betrayed him here and he wasn't able to look at Sam.

Sam didn't say a word but put a hand on his shoulder, hesitantly at first but more confidently when Dean leaned into the touch.

"I didn't know." Sam finally said.

"I thought I could stand it." Dean admitted. "Tried it your way but sex didn't work out for me here."

Now Sam chuckled in a low tone. "Maybe you've to be an incubus for that to work."

"I should put on some clothes now." Dean decided, wearing only the comforter made him feel too vulnerable for his liking.

"I'll get you the things I have picked out for today."

"Hmm?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him while Sam struggled to get his legs under himself to get off the floor.

"I think we can skip the search but I'll feel better if you wear things I've searched beforehand."

"You mean?"

"I could go with some pie now." Sam answered already at the door to get him his clothes. "If you're up for it. I can give you a rain check on this."

"Why are you doing this?" Dean just had to ask. Why did Sam put up with all his crap?

"You deserve it."

Seconds later Sam was back with a bundle of clothes and Dean hurried to get dressed under his watchful eyes. With every piece of clothing Dean felt more like himself and in the end he could almost laugh at his little freak out.

"Let's go and get some pie." Sam led the way. "I know where they make the best pie in the city."


	19. Chapter 19

The day hadn't started like Sam had pictured it. At first it had been fun to see Dean's excitement over one little trip into town. He had even hoped that the necessary task of searching Dean for hidden messages or weapons, without the spell Dean would be able to attack Sam, would turn into something more fun. But then the teasing and the waves of arousal he got from Dean changed into something else.

When Dean stood naked in the middle of the room, stiff like a board and borderline to a panic attack Sam realized that something had gone completely wrong at some point.

Sam had followed Dean upstairs where he learned the ugly truth about the Food Market, no wonder Dean had freaked out.

However, that was only one more reason for Sam to take Dean out for pie. It broke his heart how easily Dean was willing to give up something he'd been really looking forward to. Or how surprised Dean reacted when Sam still wanted to go out even without the thorough search he'd insisted on earlier.

When they finally sat in the car a few minutes later Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Not that he feared Dean would jump out of the driving car or something. No, with a mixture of joy and guilt Sam watched the emotions flashing over Dean's face. Only now it occurred to him that Dean probably had expected to never leave Sam's place ever again. At least not alive. And if Sam was honest, he'd refused to think about that because he had to admit that it was true. He'd never intended to let Dean out again. Why he did it now he had no idea but the open smile on Dean's face was worth it.

"This is awesome." Dean proclaimed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sam tried to not show the stab of guilt he was feeling. He just had no idea how to get out of the situation. He needed Dean and letting him go was out of option. If somebody out of the community found out about a rogue human out there who knew too much about them, Dean was dead.

No matter if he liked it or not, they were stuck together.

"You know that the car isn't supposed to sound like this, don't you?" Dean said after a few minutes. With his head tilted like a dog listening to something he was focused on the sound of the engine.

"Sounds fine to me." Sam answered but he had to admit that he knew nothing about cars. He knew who to call if the car broke down and that was it.

"I'll take a look at it when we're back home." Dean nodded to himself and declared the car healthy enough for their little ride. To Sam the important part of that statement was that Dean for one intended to come back to Sam's place and second that he'd called that place home.

"You're the expert on this." Sam said, his voice thick with emotions.

They reached the place Sam had in mind twenty minutes later and to Sam's relief there were only a few cars in the parking lot. Looked like the breakfast rush was already over.

He parked the car but for a moment neither of them showed any intention to get out.

"You stay right at my side." Sam reminded him. "No wandering off, no talking to anybody. Okay?" He wasn't sure what he would do if Dean just got out of the car and made a break for it.

However, he didn't have to find out. Dean nodded in agreement and followed Sam inside. This was more of a diner and not a coffee shop like Dean had requested but Sam figured it didn't matter as long as Dean got out and the pie was good. And the pie was good here, he hadn't lied when he'd proclaimed it the best pie in the city.

They got a table in the far corner, away from the few other patrons.

"Coffee?" The waitress brought the menus and filled their cups.

"Thank you." Dean said politely with a challenging eye on Sam. Strictly speaking this was against the no talking rule but he didn't hurt anybody with being polite.

"We're here for the pie." Sam accepted his coffee. "What flavors do you have? Which one would you recommend?"

"Well, the apple pie is very popular." She said and then rattled off the different kinds they also had and with every word Dean's eyes got bigger and his grin wider.

"Thanks, just give as a sec to decide." Sam thanked her.

"Sure thing."

Alone again Sam breathed easier. So far Dean hadn't shown any intention to do anything else than drink a coffee and have some pie but Sam was already sweating. In the light of the day he was here with a kidnapped man who he held captive against his will. Dean had every right to try to escape or to ask for help. Dean had given his word to not try anything and Sam believed him but he still felt uneasy with the whole situation.

Dean couldn't decide between apple and pecan so Sam ordered both for him and blueberry for himself. In the end Dean ate his two slices and half of Sam's.

Sam did enjoy sitting here with Dean, he did, but somewhere along the road he'd lost his appetite.

Dean talked about Sam's car, what he thought might be wrong with it, and Sam just nodded and listened. Not that he understood a word of what Dean was saying. Either way, he might save quite some money if he let Dean take care of it now instead of waiting until it became a real problem and he would need to bring it in.

When they'd finished their pie, they leaned back, slowly sipping their coffees. By now even Sam had relaxed a bit.

Dean sat with his back to the wall which gave him a good view on the diner. Sam didn't turn his head to see what Dean was watching, he kept his eyes on Dean's face. He feared what he might read in his expression, wistfulness, sadness, but instead Dean's face was lit in genuine joy.

"Ready to go home?" Sam asked and finished his cup.

"Yeah." Dean set his cup down and grinned at him. Sam paid and a minute later they were back in the car. "Thanks, man. That was awesome."

Back home Dean went straight to his room and left the key in the lock from the outside.

"It won't take long." Sam promised when he turned the key and then sprinted to his own room to set the spell. He wanted to rush through the process but he needed to do it right so he forced himself to focus and to take his time.

The telltale orange flash wasn't even gone when he was back at Dean's door.

"Okay, you can come out." Sam said but the door didn't open like he'd expected. Instead he heard Dean's voice.

"Come in."

Not sure what to make out of this but with an uneasy feeling in his stomach Sam opened the door.

The first thing he noticed was the towel on the bed. Dean had put the covers aside and had laid out a towel instead. Then he noticed the bottle on the nightstand and only then his gaze flicked to Dean who stood a little awkward at the side.

"Dean." Sam started, searching for the words to tell him that he didn't need to thank him, but he was cut off by Dean anyway.

"You're tense like a bow string." Dean stepped closer and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "The whole trip, you couldn't relax for a second." His fingertips dug into the meat of Sam's neck, working on the tight muscles there. Dean stepped around him to get a better angle and now his thumbs found the knots between his shoulder blades.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam groaned when Dean found a tender spot. It hurt but in a good way.

"Take off your clothes and lay down." Dean purred in his ear. "I'll give you a massage."

Obediently Sam took off his shirt and kicked off his shoes but hesitated at the belt.

"All your clothes." Dean clarified, his warm hands now working their magic on Sam's bare shoulders.

"Am I getting a happy ending?" Sam teased while a small part of his brain told him to stop this. This wasn't like it was supposed to be, Dean shouldn't repay him like this. Hell, he had paid for their little trip with the car, he owed Sam nothing.

"Only if you stop thinking so much and get naked already." Dean mumbled and left a trail of kisses on his neck.

It may just be his nature but the last few hours had left Sam tense and burned out so he stopped thinking and let Dean take care of him. At least he felt Dean's arousal spiking when Sam shook off his pants and underwear.

"Just relax." Dean told him, running a hand down his back when Sam finally lay on his stomach. There was a short rustle of clothes and the sound of a bottle opening and then the mattress dipped and he felt Dean straddling his thighs. With his forehead resting on the back of his hands Sam couldn't see him but if he wasn't mistaken, Dean was naked as well.

However, Dean started chastely with kneading Sam's shoulders and then working his way down his spine. With sure hands he found every knot and kink, coaxing moans of pleasured pain from Sam while he slowly relaxed into a happy puddle.

Skipping his butt Dean worked his way down to his legs, first the right one, than the left one, massaging every muscle down to his toes.  
By now Sam was on his way to dozing off with his rock hard erection trapped between him and the rough texture of the towel. The light friction kept him pleasantly aroused without the urge to do something about it.

"Turn over." Dean nudged him gently and Sam rolled over, his erection now proud and leaking on display but Dean ignored that and went to work on his arm instead. Then the other one and his chest before he traveled downwards but bypassed Sam's cock, much to his frustration but he was too comfy to protest, and put his attention to the front of his legs.

And then, finally, Dean's fingers, hand slick and warm from the oil, wrapped around his cock. In slow, even strokes he moved up and down Sam's length, thumb circling the head with every upstroke, while his other hand cradled Sam's balls.

The heat pooling in his belly deepened with each stroke, building up to a lazy orgasm. Curling his toes Sam let out a sigh and spilled his release over Dean's hand.

"You're hired as my personal masseur." Sam mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

"What, I get paid now for my service? Awesome." Dean teased but in a low enough voice to not disturb Sam's afterglow. "We're not done yet, turn over."

Only now it occurred to Sam that Dean hadn't touched himself and so far had not gotten anything from this.

"Dean …" He started but Dean cut him off by putting his hands on Sam's butt.

"Shh." Dean made and his thumbs slipped in the cleft, brushing over his entrance. Dean was about to take care of himself so Sam just spread his legs a little wider to give Dean more room and was otherwise content with just lying there and enjoying Dean's hands on him.  
He thought Dean would speed things up now but he took his sweet time, working him open with one finger at a time until he was finally up to three. Sam never needed that much preparation and with the attention Dean paid his prostate he was aching for more long before Dean was willing to put his cock in there. How Dean mustered that iron level of self-control was beyond him but Sam was in no condition to think anyway.

When Dean finally came buried deep inside him, he took Sam with him over the edge.

"What are you doing to me?" Sam mumbled into the pillow, too wrung out to move, while Dean rolled off him and stretched out next to him.

"I could ask you the same thing."


	20. Chapter 20

The day of Ellen's birthday party Dean was more nervous than he'd been on his own prom and he wasn't even the one going.

The whole day he tried to convince Sam to take something, anything, else so he could pull a "Ha, ha, of course that's a joke, here's your real present".

However, Sam didn't listen, that stubborn bastard, and insisted that the toy car was the perfect present for Ellen.

"It's your funeral." Dean muttered under his breath and dropped on the couch in defeat. At least nobody at the party knew him and he would never meet one of them so nobody would laugh in his face for that sorry excuse for a car. It didn't change the fact that he knew and that Sam knew, though.

What if they laughed at Sam for the present? What if Ellen wasn't amused at all? Could she fire him over this? She was Sam's boss after all.

"Stop worrying." Sam sat down next to him, the offensive car in one hand and a box in the other. "She'll love it."

Dean shook his head but couldn't think of something to say he hadn't said ten times today already. At least the paper Sam wrapped it in was nice.

"Don't wait up for me." Sam said when he was ready to leave, present under his arm and a grin on his face.

Of course Dean did wait up. There was no way he could sleep now. He knew it was silly but he felt like Sam had taken his baby to show it off to his friends and now he feared that they'd rip it apart.

"If I had known he wanted to give it away, I would have spent more time making it better." Dean muttered to himself while he paced up and down the living room. Over the last few days he had done what he could to make it just a little more perfect but there were still way too many things he wasn't quite happy with but couldn't change without taking the car apart and start from scratch.

"It's perfect." Sam had assured him and had promised that they would look online for model car parts so Dean could start a new project. The last few days he'd been busy with this car and Sam's real car but they both knew that Dean would get bored pretty soon without a new project.

Why Sam even bothered with stuff like this was still beyond Dean but if he wanted to buy him things to keep him occupied he wasn't complaining.

To pass the time Dean popped in a DVD, some old Bruce Lee movie he'd seen a million times before but he was in no condition to watch something new.

It was way after midnight when finally the elevator moved. By then Dean had dozed off on the couch but at that sound he was wide awake in a second.

"You're still up." Sam said without surprise but with a light slur in his words. His tie was loosened and his jacket didn't sit as sharp as when he'd left anymore and his hair was a mess.

"You had fun?" Dean asked. He saw the glossy eyes, the flushed cheeks and didn't need to smell the alcohol to know that Sam was drunk.

"I had a blast." Giggling Sam slumped down next to him. Now Dean smelled the alcohol and sweat and maybe the rich aroma of good food but nothing indicating that Sam had sex on the party.

Why he was thinking about that he'd no idea and he was pretty sure that wasn't an activity Sam would pursue on his boss' birthday party but Dean couldn't deny the fact that he felt relieved when he didn't see or smell anything indicating sexual activities on Sam.

"Did she like your present?" Dean dared to ask when Sam just sat there for a long minute.

"She loved it." Now Sam's grin grew wider. "She was only pissed because she barely got a chance to play with it."

"It was her party." Dean reminded him. "It's not that she could just drive it around a room full of people."

"No, the other guests played with it all the time." Sam corrected him. "Ash and Jo even ended up in a fight over who was next. Jo won but by then somebody else already had the remote."

"What?" Dean blinked at him. That wasn't quite what he'd expected to hear. "Are you telling me that a room full of grown up adults were fighting over one stupid toy car?"

"Yep." Sam let the word pop. "And I've a list of six people who want one for themselves."

"Wha...?"

"They want to pay money."

"For toy cars?" Dean asked. "Last time I checked there were stores out there selling them."

"They want your toy cars." Sam said. "Apparently yours are more fun than the generic crap you can buy in a store. Ash's words not mine."

"Six?" A shy grin crept on Dean's lips.

"Six." Sam confirmed. "If you want."

"Well." Dean cleared his throat. "If they really want to waste money on it."

"You've no idea." Sam clapped his shoulder and then used him as a crutch to get up. "I'm drunk. Time for bed."

They made their way upstairs and not long after that they lay together in Sam's bed. Drunk as he was Sam just turned around and was asleep a second later. Dean on the other hand lay there, wide awake, and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that not just Ellen actually liked the car but that others wanted him to build more of them.

His mind was racing with ideas. He would take Sam up on his offer to look online for the basic parts but the body had to be done with scrap metal just like Ellen's.

By the time of dawn Dean had hardly slept at all but he had a few good ideas for the six cars. Six. This was ridiculous.

Under other circumstances Dean would have spent the night online, ordering the parts he would need and browsing for ideas, but Sam kept his phone and the laptop in a locked box under his side of the bed over night. Dean was pretty sure that he could pick the lock if he had to but with Sam sleeping just inches away that wasn't an option. He didn't want to risk what he had for that. And if he was honest, he was content with his situation.

Dean was up early, nursing a coffee and waiting for Sam to wake up. Which he did around nine. Sort of.

"Kill me now." Sam begged when he spotted Dean leaning in the door frame.

"I would but with spell in place …" Dean shrugged and placed a tray on the nightstand.

"What's that?" Sam mumbled into his pillow.

"A really good hangover remedy." Dean answered. "A greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

Sam groaned.

"Okay, how about toast, scrambled eggs and orange juice?" Dean asked, setting up an improvised table with the tray so Sam could eat in bed. "And painkillers."

"Now we're talking." Sam came up to a more or less sitting position, a serious case of bed hair still blocking most of his view. Only with a delay he noticed the breakfast in bed.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He asked and reached for a dry slice of toast. He nibbled on it for a moment before he paused. "What did you do? Break my TV or something?"

"Hangover you're even less funny than usual." Dean made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

"So …" He snagged a glob of scrambled eggs from Sam's plate. "Six cars? Or was that just drunk talk?"

Sam had sounded serious last night but Dean still couldn't quite believe that and it was easy to dismiss it as the well meant rambling of an intoxicated incubus.

Sam didn't need to know that he'd made a fool out of himself by lying awake all night, thinking about those stupid cars.

"Six cars." Sam confirmed and raked a hand through his hair. It had to be some kind of secret incubus power that it lay almost perfectly after that one rake-through. The rest of his head still looked like road-kill, though.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Okay." Dean plopped back into the pillow. "We shouldn't waste time, then. Get up, I need your laptop."

"Just give me an hour." Sam squinted at him. "Or two."

"You're a lightweight, you know that?" Dean snuggled deeper into the pillow, looked like it would take a while until Sam was functional again. "Anything to let you recover quicker?"

"Sex?" He sounded hopeful.

"Not with that morning breath."

Sam pouted at him but didn't really look like he could carry through with the idea anyway.

"Take a shower and brush your teeth." Dean suggested and closed is eyes. He would lay here for a moment, just until Sam was ready to start the day.

The lack of sleep caught up with him and slowly he drifted off. He could get up and go searching for parts in the basement but by now he knew what he had at hand there and the bed was too comfy to get up just yet.

The last thing he noticed was the warmth of the blanket covering him and Sam's soft voice.

"You didn't get much sleep, didn't you?" There was a gentle hand on his head and he leaned into the touch.

When Dean opened his eyes again he was alone in the bed. And the sun was now up high in the sky.

"Dammit." Dean rolled out of bed and went to search for Sam. He found him showered and shaved and looking much more alive on the couch with his laptop and huge pot of coffee in front of him.

"You're awake, good." He greeted him when Dean came downstairs as if he was the one with the hangover. "Have a look at this." He patted the seat next to him.

They stayed the next two hours like this, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the laptop between them, searching for the right motor for Dean's cars.

"You should think about the price." Sam suddenly changed the topic. "Believe me, these people can afford it, hell, they expect to pay quite a bit for something custom-made."

Dean hadn't thought about that yet and he wasn't sure what a fair price for his work was.

"And think money this time." Sam reminded him. "You can't always go cheap with pie."

"Pie isn't cheap." Dean protested. "And in case you've forgotten, I don't really have use for money anymore."

That bit hurt a little but he was in a too good mood to brood over that now.

"You could use it to buy things for yourself." Sam offered. "You wouldn't have to rely completely on me. If you want something, you can just get it."

Dean thought about that. Sure, Sam would still be the one who had to go out and buy it or Dean had to use his laptop under his supervision to purchase something online but it would be a good feeling to have money for himself again.

"You would let me keep the money?" Dean knew Sam would never just take something from him but technically everything he owned was Sam's. Strictly speaking Sam owned him as well, not that Sam acted on it most of the time. Or at all.

"Dean, that's money you'll earn with your work, of course you can keep it." Sam said. "You can do whatever you want with it."

Dean leaned back and let the idea sink in. For six cars he wouldn't get that much money, he wouldn't be rich or anything, he knew that, but that wasn't important here. Important was that this was something he had for himself. And that was a good feeling.

"But I repay you for the parts." If he did this, he wanted to do it right.

Sam studied him for a moment and then offered his hand.

"Deal."

"Deal." Dean shook Sam's hand. And damn, that felt good.


	21. Chapter 21

Sam had known that the car was the perfect present for Ellen, her delightful squealing when she opened the box was more than proof enough, and he found Dean's worries quite amusing.

As long as he didn't think about that too deeply, then he felt the sudden urge to strangle the person who had beaten Dean's feeling of self-worth into nonexistence. Sam didn't know much about Dean's past and his family but if he had to guess, Dean's father was the one he wanted to strangle.

However, Dean never talked about his past, partly due to his current situation, Sam could only imagine how Dean must feel as his prisoner, but the main reason was because of what had happened to him before he'd met Sam.

Sam didn't ask and he never came back to Benny's offer to have a look at Dean's file, if it was as bad as Sam figured there probably was a file about it. Dean would talk to him on his own terms. Or not at all and that would be okay, too.

So at the party Sam didn't feel like his present was cheap or inappropriate or something like that, however, the reaction of the other guests surprised him nonetheless. Ellen had to search her house for batteries and they went through three sets of them over the night with Ellen the person who played with the car the least.

Dean's little car was the talk of the party and one by one people approached Sam to ask where he'd bought it.

"A friend of mine made it." Was his standard answer, which he always gave with pride.

By the end of the night Sam had six orders in his pocket, some with quite specific requests he wasn't sure Dean could fulfill. Or if he even wanted to build those cars for people he didn't even know. But that was the least of Sam's worries, if he had to bet money, he would have said that Dean would jump at that opportunity. And he was right.

By the time the ordered parts arrived, Sam had them delivered to his workplace, Dean had used the measurements to draw scratches of the cars and had spent hours emailing back and forth with his customers to clarify the details. Sam knew about the latter because he was the one typing. He trusted Dean, he did, but Dean would have been stupid if he had free access to the laptop and didn't call for help. So Sam did the typing and most of the time he'd no clue what Dean and the customer were talking about. Nothing dangerous, that much he understood, and for the rest he just played Dean's secretary.

They used Dean's email address, it only seemed fair, and Sam got a look at his inbox. Spam mostly and very few personal emails. All of them from Bobby.

The man was concerned about Dean's disappearance and lack of communication.

Dean read the messages with misty eyes and then asked with a croaky voice if he could answer. There was no way Sam could tell him no.

So Dean told his friend that he was okay, that he was with somebody, he even had a few nice things to say about Sam, and that some stupid rich people were willing to pay him money for scrap on wheels.

The time Sam was at work Dean spent in the basement, sorting scrap metal into six small piles and more often than not the smell of hot metal lay in the air from the welding or the sound of hammer on metal let Sam's ears ring. Good thing they didn't have any neighbors.

Dean tried to keep up with his self-imposed duty of making dinner and Sam was happy with every hot meal he got but the days Dean forgot the time Sam just made them sandwiches or they ordered in, no big deal. Seeing the happy smile on Dean's face was more than worth it.

"Sam?" Ellen knocked at his open door, nothing unusual there but the way she said his name in an almost shy way was unusual.

"Yes?" Sam looked up from his work, mentally searching for the reason she was approaching him. "Don't rush me, I'll need at least another hour to finish this."

"No, that's not …" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That car you gave me for my birthday …"

"Yeah?" Now she had Sam's full attention. Was something wrong with it? Dean would be devastated if she had something to complain about.

"I heard your friend is taking orders?" She asked. She smiled to herself with a little shake of her head. "Jo can't keep her hands off mine. And with her birthday coming up next month …"

"Uh." Sam leaned back in his chair. This started to grow into something he hadn't expected. And he wasn't sure what to think of it.

"I know your friend does them just for fun." Ellen hurried to say. "And he's probably busy …"

"No." Sam cut her off. The last thing Dean was, was busy. "Tell you what, I'll ask him as soon as I get home and he'll send you an email so you can work out the details."

"Great." She smiled at him and turned to leave but then stopped. "He moved in? Sam, you sly dog. You didn't tell me that it was this serious."

"Well." Sam shrugged and didn't know what to say. Dean had _moved in_ before they even knew each other. And not by choice.

"'You told me it wasn't that serious. You should have brought him with you to the party." She glared at him. "Now I feel like an ass for leaving him out."

"A pretty ass."

"Smart ass." She shot back. "But seriously, next time you bring him along."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam agreed with no intention of keeping that promise. Going out with Dean for a coffee had nearly ended in a heart attack on his part, no way was he taking him to a party. And now Sam felt like the biggest ass on earth.

He promised Ellen that Dean would send her an email, at least to tell her if he would accept the order or not.

The rest of the day Sam could hardly focus on his work.

He had the feeling that this was a crucial point. He could let Dean build those six, now seven, cars and that was it. Or he could let it grow into something. Before he knew it Sam was thinking of Dean's signature on the cars. Of business cards they could hand out. An online shop.

If they did this right, it could grow into something big. Perhaps even big enough for Dean to make a living out of it. Sam knew people in the community who could help with the marketing. Hell, he knew people who would like to buy one of Dean's cars.

"Uh." Surprised by this thoughts Sam leaned back in his chair. He could limit Dean's communication with his customers to email. Under Sam's supervision, of course.

However, the scrap metal in the basement would get Dean only that far, he would need more.

Scrap yards came to mind. Sam had no idea what Dean would need and Dean probably needed to see a piece of junk to decide if he could use it or not. So yeah, if Sam let Dean go down this road he would have to let him go out, too.

"The diner has worked out just fine." He mumbled to himself. "With far more people around than you'll find in a scrap yard."

Deep down he already had made his decision, no matter how often he told himself that this was the stupidest idea ever, and he knew it.

And he had to face it, he liked Dean, maybe even loved him – which by itself was ridiculous, he was an incubus and not in for the big feelings – and he wanted more for Dean.

Sometimes Sam wished they'd met in one of the clubs he'd frequented and their relationship had grown from there. Life would be easier now.

_You could let him go_ , a helpful voice whispered in the back of his mind. But that was out of option and not because having Dean around was convenient or because Sam liked him and didn't want to let him go.

The community they had set up in this city worked because of two reasons: They were everywhere and they knew how to keep a secret.

For the first time Sam didn't feel safe and protected by the community.

Benny had promised to get Dean out of the city if something happened to Sam, however, the only reason he had given that promise was the fact that Sam wasn't likely to die any time soon. They kept the community a hunter free zone so there weren't any humans around who even knew how to kill Sam.

He wasn't entirely sure if Benny would keep his promise, though. He would risk a lot for a human he barely knew. But at least he would make it a quick death for Dean.

"Let's just not find out." Sam huffed to himself and brought his thoughts back to the crazy idea of setting up a business for Dean.

Before he could lose himself in that idea he had to asked Dean, of course, see what the other man thought of the it.

Sam wasn't sure how he wanted Dean to react, though. Dismissing the idea would keep their lives on a safe level while taking Sam up on this would make everything way more complicated.

Back home, over dinner, Sam went for the less life changing news first.

"Ellen asked me if you could build her another car." Sam said around a mouth full of pasta. He'd no idea what Dean had put in the sauce but it was delicious. If the cars didn't work out, Dean should start a career as a chef.

"The other one broke already?" Dean chewed on some garlic bread, desperately trying to not show his disappointment but Sam saw right through that facade.

"No, her daughter is constantly stealing it from her so she wants another one for her birthday."

Dean froze mid-chew. "Are you making this up?"

"I told Ellen you would send her an email if you take the order or not." Sam wiped his plate with a piece of bread. "You can ask her if she's serious."

Dean shook his head in disbelieve but the smile on his lips betrayed him.

"There's something else I wanted to talk about." Sam pushed the plate away. He noticed the sudden tension in Dean's posture and he wondered if Dean would ever trust him enough to not expect the worst every time Sam wanted to talk about something.

"You like building these cars, don't you?"

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "Helps to pass the time." He said it nonchalantly as if he didn't want to let Sam know how much it really meant to him. So Sam wouldn't take it away? That thought left an uneasy feeling in Sam's stomach but he ignored it for now.

"I was thinking, why not go professional with it?"

"What?"

Sam explained his idea to him, over the day it had grown to a solid plan. Dean listened, his eyes growing bigger with every word Sam said.

"An online shop?"

"We could give it a try." Not it was Sam's turn to shrug. "If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out."

"You do realize that it costs money to set this all up." Dean tried to reason with him but there was a sparkle in his eyes.

"I'm willing to take that risk." Money wasn't exactly a problem for Sam. "But if it works out, I expect you to pay me back." That part was important for him. This was not something Sam sat up to entertain his slave. Sam wanted this to be Dean's. Sure he would need Sam's money to start but Sam wanted to be out of it as soon as possible.

"Of course." The way Dean smiled at him, he got the full meaning of this. It would be Dean's business, Sam would have no say in it.

"And you would really go to scrap yards with me?"


	22. Chapter 22

The next day Dean still wasn't sure what to think of the idea with the online shop. It sounded cool at first but the longer he thought about it the stupider it looked. Sam was willing to spend quite some money on this. Setting up a professional website alone was expensive but Sam was determined to do it right. No half-ass do it yourself crap.

Now Dean had to think of a name for his business. Sam wanted to have business cards ready to hand out with the cars Dean was working on and for that he'd need a name.

Shaking his head Dean went to work on the current car. He could think best while his hands were busy anyway. And with the additional order from Ellen he would be busy for a while now. These cars weren't a days work.

This time he knew he wasn't building the cars for himself so he went to work with more care and actually worked out things he'd brushed off with a "good enough" earlier.

It did feel good, though, and if he was honest he liked the idea of making a profession out of this.

A mean little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that he would fail miserably with this, though. As always. When had he ever been successful with anything? He hadn't finished school, had never had a steady job or a relationship that lasted longer than three weeks. He was a failure as a son and why Bobby had put up with him after … he still had no clue. And now he would disappoint Sam as well.

He tried to ignore that voice but it was persistent.

Sam had been busy, too, and when Dean opened his emails that evening his inbox was full with design samples for the cards and the website.

"That was quick." Dean sat back in astonishment. Most of the text was placeholder nonsense to illustrate the idea but he saw where this was going. And he had to say, he liked it. Strict and clear, nothing too fancy.

"Benefit of being part of the community." Sam shrugged but couldn't hide a grin.

"Now I'm part of the community?" Dean raised an eyebrow to that. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea, though. "Do I want to know what kind of monster this Susan is?" He squinted at the screen to get the name right. Susan sounded nice. For all he knew she ate human liver for breakfast.

"Probably not." Sam confirmed.

Overwhelmed with the decisions Dean let it be for the moment and wrote an email to Bobby instead. He told him that he had yet another order for his scrap on wheels and that Sam wanted to waste money by going professional with it.

"Why do you call it scrap on wheels?" Sam asked while he typed the email.

"Because that's what it is. Just scrap." Dean kept his eyes on the screen, he didn't want to see the pity in Sam's eyes. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Sam did this just to entertain him.

"It starts as scrap." Sam said in a soft voice. "But what you make out of it … I saw Ellen's car, I saw the blueprints for the new ones, hell, I see the half-done stuff in the basement and all I can think of is how awesome it is."

"You don't have to sweeten this for me." Dean shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I'm not. This scrap on wheels." He even made the air-quotes. "Is pretty badass."

"If you say so." Dean wasn't convinced. "Write that I'll send pictures of the cars so he can have a good laugh."

Sam did type it but Dean could tell that he didn't like it.

"It would make a good name, though." Sam sucked in his bottom lip, thinking.

"What would make a good name?" With his mind on the email they were writing Dean must have missed something here.

"Scrap on Wheels."

"Hmm." Thinking about it, Sam had a point. And it was better than anything they'd come up before. It was catchy and it said clearly what they were dealing with.

"Scrap on Wheels." Dean tested the sound of it. "I like it." He decided and with that it was settled.

They spend the rest of the evening emailing back and forth with Susan to discuss the details and in the end they had a pretty good concept of the website, the business cards and Susan had a few tips on marketing in general.

That was all they could do on their end, now they had to wait for Susan to come back to them but Dean was more happy with the actual work in the basement anyway.

A few days later, Sam was at work, Dean stood in the basement, finishing the paintwork of the first of the ordered cars.

_If this pays out_ , he thought to himself, _I'll invest in some airbrush equipment._

He could work with spry cans but with airbrush he would get better results, he was sure of it.

The can still in hand he stepped back to have a critical look at his work.

_Not bad,_ he had to admit.

The sound of the gate opening drew him out of his thoughts. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that this time he hadn't forgotten the time, it was only a little after one which was way too early for Sam to come home. And when he looked out of the window he didn't recognize the car coming down the driveway.

"What the hell?"

The car came closer and now Dean could make out the silhouette of the man behind the wheel. There weren't many people who would just come by for a visit, none to be exact, and Dean could only think of one wearing such a stupid hat.

"Shit." Dean stumbled backwards, an icy fist clenching his stomach. There was only one reason why Benny would be here.

"Hello?" The door opened and Detective Lafitte stepped in. "Dean? Are you here?"

Dean got his bearings, more or less, and made his way around the corner.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice hoarse all of a sudden. "Is Sam okay?" _Don't tell me he's dead, don't, don't …_

Benny blinked at him before realization dawned on his face.

"Sam's okay." He hurried to say and Dean breathed easier. Which was stupid. If anything happened to Sam he would get out. At least he had said so. If Benny would carry through with that plan Dean wasn't so sure about.

"He's okay, Dean." Benny repeated. "He'll be home after work as usual."

"Why are you here, then?" If Sam was okay, why was Benny here? Wary of the situation, Dean squared his shoulders. Base line he was alone with a blood-thirsty monster.

Would the spell prevent him from defending himself against the vampire? He didn't know but he wasn't keen on finding out either. He wasn't sure if he would stand a chance against a vampire under best circumstances.

"I wanted to talk to you." Benny answered easily. "I'm not here to harm you."

"Okay?" Dean's mind was racing. By now it was clear that this had nothing to do with Sam but he couldn't for the life of his think of a reason why the vampire wanted to talk to him. For sure he wasn't here to do his job as a cop and free the kidnapped man.

"I know you don't want Sam to know about your past." Benny started but was interrupted by Dean.

"You ran my name?" Of course he did, everything made sense now. After what Sam had hinted at their last meeting, how could he not? Dean had to lean against the wall, he didn't trust his legs right now.

"Hey, easy there." Suddenly Benny was close. Too close.

"Don't." Out of reflex Dean kept him at arm's length with his palm flat on the other man's chest. Benny stopped and even took a step back to give Dean some room.

"Did you tell Sam?" That was the important question here. Benny knew, nothing he could do about that, but Sam?

"No." Benny answered, eying him for a moment.

"You really got fucked over." The vampire said and walked over to the workbench where the unfinished cars lay. Curious he picked one up. "And I'm not talking about Sam pounding your ass."

"That's none of your business." Dean snatched the car out of his hand.

"I guess it's not." The vampire took the hint and backed off.

"What do you want?" What was the price Dean had to pay to buy his silence? That was the big question here. There wasn't much Dean could offer, he was painfully aware of that fact.

Benny studied him for a long moment, reading him while Dean tried to read him in return. He expected to see pity there, maybe disgust, but Benny's face didn't give anything away.

"You would do everything to keep your past a secret from Sam." Benny finally said with something like surprise in his voice.

"Spit it out, what do you want?" If Dean had to go on his knees for this or bent over or whatever, he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"You know it wasn't your fault." Benny repeated the words Dean had heard way too often since then. On a rational level he knew it hadn't been his fault but deep down he wasn't so sure. And the memory of Kyle's parents telling him to the face that they blamed him for everything was still way too vivid.

"I'm the one who came out alive." Dean avoided his eyes.

"Surviving doesn't make it your fault."

"And talking shrink doesn't tell me what you want." Dean snapped at him. Why couldn't he get some peace? It had been so long, why did it always have to come back?

Benny smiled at him with a hint of too many teeth.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" He asked when Dean failed to flinch at the sight of his not so human side. "I see why Sam likes you so much."

Dean just glared at him.

"Anyway." He turned back to the cars but didn't touch them this time. "I don't know how much freedom Sam allows you so this might do nothing more than to freak you out for no reason at all."

He paused and Dean fought the urge to throttle him.

"I read your file and then I had a look at your father's."

"That bastard is gone." That was the only good thing about this whole mess. John Winchester was rotting in prison and for all Dean cared he could die there.

"Not quite." Benny didn't turn, his eyes still on the unfinished cars.

"What do you mean?" Dean had forgotten how to breathe. Benny wasn't indicating what he thought he was, was he?

"Looks like fortune favors the assholes." Now Benny turned around. "Good conduct, ratting out a cell mate and cutting costs on the prison's side and voila your old man is getting out."

"When?" Gray spots swam in his vision and now he really needed the wall to keep him upright. But no way was he going to show his weakness in front of this stranger. Just no. Dean forced himself to breathe through the dizziness, slow and controlled.

"Soon." Benny answered. "There is no set date yet. But I'd guess a few month, half a year tops."


	23. Chapter 23

Sam knew something was wrong the moment he got out of the car. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was off.

The basement was empty.

Dean could be upstairs, making dinner, but his workplace wasn't as tidy as it used to be. While he was working on something, Dean never put away all his tools, he would have to get them out first thing in the morning anyway so no point in storing them over night, but he also never left his workplace in such a mess. It looked as if he had been interrupted in the middle of something and then just didn't return to what he was doing.

Sam picked up the freshly finished car. The paintjob was new but there were still a few details missing.

"Uh." He put it back and went for the elevator.

"I've a bad feeling about this." He muttered under his breath and hit the button once more just for good measure.

The loft was dark. It didn't smell like Dean had been cooking and worst of all, Dean didn't answer Sam's call.

It was almost night outside so the loft lay in front of him in a dark twilight, he could make out the shape of the furniture but not much more. Nothing looked Dean-shaped.

"Dean?" Sam called again and reached for the light switch. When the lights came to life he had to blink against the sudden brightness.

"Dean!"

He lay on the couch but not in a comfortable way. More like he'd just collapsed there and had been lucky to land on it, more or less, and didn't fall between the couch and the table.

"Dean, hey." Sam shoved the table aside without a look at the things on top. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving but he was too slow to catch the falling bottle. The glass shattered on the floor and the strong aroma of whiskey hit Sam like a sledge-hammer. There hadn't been much left in the bottle anyway but the scene made more sense now. Especially if he took the empty glass into account.

"Oh, Dean." Sam dropped next to the couch with a sigh. Even the noise of the shattering glass hadn't cut through Dean's alcohol indicated sleep. Sam gently brushed the sweaty hair out of his face and then rolled him back on the couch, far enough that he wasn't in danger of falling off anymore. Dean didn't stir. Lying on his back he started to snore, though.

"What did you do?" Sam asked and wondered what had happened. Dean had been fine when he'd left him in the morning. Excited and full of energy. Looking back Sam tried to find something he might have missed at that time which would be rather obvious now but he came up with nothing.

"What happened while I was gone?" He wondered but didn't get an answer to that one either. He hadn't expected one, though. He would be surprised if Dean could articulate a full sentence before noon. Before that Sam wouldn't find out what had happened and why Dean had felt the need to crawl into a bottle.

"Let's get you in bed, then." Sam tried to rise Dean but that was fruitless. Dean was like an uncooperative rag doll. A heavy one. In the end Sam carried him upstairs bride-style. Gently he laid him out on the bed and then worked him out of his shoes, still the work boots Dean only wore in the basement, and stripped him down to his underwear and t-shirt.

"You smell, you know that?" Sam wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of alcohol and sweat coming from Dean but a shower had to wait until he was at least conscious again. For a brief moment Sam wondered if he needed a hospital, alcohol poisoning came to mind, but then Dean smacked his lips and rolled to the side with a sigh and Sam figured he just needed to sleep it off. At least he hoped so. He would bring Dean to a hospital, he would, but he'd rather not.

He trusted sober Dean to not spill his beans but drunken Dean?

It was too early for Sam to turn in as well but he never left Dean for more than a few minutes. What if Dean had to throw up but didn't wake up in time? He could choke to death on his own waste. So Sam made himself a sandwich which he ate in the chair in his bedroom from where he had a good view on the bed and then he laid down next to Dean with the TV running. He kept it on a low volume but he figured Dean wouldn't even notice if he'd turn it up all the way.

Late in the evening Sam was zapping through the channels, eyes dropping until he didn't open them again. He woke up to rather strange noises, though.

Rubbing his face, he smacked himself with the remote trying that, Sam sat up and had a look around. The TV was still running but Dean's side of the bed was empty. His first thought was that Dean was in the bathroom but there was that noise again. Coming from Sam's side of the bed. Rolling to his side Sam peered over the edge of the bed.

"Dean?" Sam blinked, maybe he was still dreaming. "What are you doing?"

Dean was half kneeling, half lying on the floor, a concentrated look on his face and was working on the box where Sam kept his laptop and phone over night. It looked like Dean was trying to pick the lock. Not very successfully, though.

Caught Dean froze.

"I ..." He started, staring up at Sam. There were tears running down his face and even this one word was slurred. Partly because he was drunk, sure, but Sam got the feeling that this was more from the emotions he could read on Dean's face than anything else.

"Please ... I need ... I didn't ... I ... I ..." Whatever he wanted to say was lost in his sobbing. He came up to a sitting position, his back to the bed and Sam couldn't see his face anymore. Dean sat there, legs stretched out in front of him, hand with a piece of wire lifelessly on the floor next to him and with his head hanging. Defeated, was the word in Sam's mind.

"Dean?" Sam sat up fully and then slit out of bed to sit next to him. "What are you doing?"

"I need the phone." That sentence came out surprisingly clear.

"Who do you want to call?" Sam kept his voice even and made sure to speak slowly, he doubted Dean could follow a quick conversation at the moment.

"Bobby."

Sam could only make out that name because so far Bobby had been the only person Dean had wanted to communicate with.

"Why do you want to call Bobby?" Sam asked. This didn't make sense. Dean and Bobby exchanged emails almost every day now and if Dean wanted to call him all he had to do was to ask Sam. But a phone call hadn't come up in a while and if Sam was honest, he preferred the emails. That way he could control the information Dean passed on but so far Dean hadn't tried to slip something past him. At least Sam hadn't noticed. However, Bobby hadn't come to the rescue so he was pretty sure that Dean was honest with him here.

So why did he try to steal the phone?

Dean didn't answer the question, he just sat there with his head hanging and for a moment Sam was sure he'd just gone back to sleep. But then Dean came into motion, tried to scramble to his feet but only made it to all fours before he gagged and coughed and the sour odor of vomit hit Sam. Only with a delay he felt the vomit soaking through his sweats, warm and wet.

"Shit." Sam hurried to get to his feet, with more success than Dean, and ran into the bathroom to get the waste bucket. Dean didn't sound like he was done but Sam doubted he could get him over to the toilet without at least one more accident.

"Here." Sam shoved the bucket in Dean's face, who got the idea and gripped the rim as if his life depended on it. With that taken care off Sam hurried back to the bathroom to get rid of his soiled pants but was back at Dean's side in less than a minute.

"Easy there." Sam rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back with one hand while he kept him from toppling over with the other one firmly on his forehead. "Just let it out."

They sat on the floor for quite a while, Sam had no idea for how long only that his legs went numb at some point and that the barf he was kneeling in was cold by now.

"You done?" When the dry heaving stopped and Dean hung heavy in his grip, Sam guided him back to a sitting position with his back leaning against the bed. "Stay here."

Never really letting Dean out of his sight Sam rinsed the bucket and while he was at it, he gave his bare legs a quick once over as well. Feeling clean again he filled a glass of water for Dean and went back to the bedroom.

Dean hadn't moved but accepted the water to rinse his mouth and then drank the rest greedily.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam took the glass back and set it aside. At least for the moment Dean seemed to be with him.

"Benny was here." He finally said, eyes already dropping. "I need to tell Bobby."

"Benny was here?" Sam hadn't expected that. If it hadn't been the middle of the night Sam would have called his friend right then to scold him for upsetting Dean. Whatever Benny had told him it had devastated Dean. Or was it something Benny had done?

Sam knew Benny, trusted him, he wouldn't just come over to do something to Dean. Even if they weren't friends, Dean was Sam's and everybody in the community would respect that. No, Benny hadn't done anything, not on purpose at least.

Dean hadn't answered his question but he was still awake, more or less.

"What did he tell you?"

Now he shook his head rather violently.

"Please ... can't ... can't ..." The sobbing was back and Dean leaned into Sam until he was clinging to him, crying into his chest.

"Hey, it's okay." Helplessly Sam embraced him in a tight hug and went back to rubbing circles on Dean's back. "Let's get you back to bed. Sleep it off. You can call Bobby in the morning."

"I can?" Dean perked up to that, a ridiculous cheerful expression on his face when he looked up to Sam with bright eyes. But then his face crumbled and he turned his gaze away. "No, I can't."

"Hey, I said you can." Sam tried to reassure him but Dean didn't listen. He was crying and mumbling into Sam's damp t-shirt.

It took him a while to coax Dean back to bed where he finally fell asleep again, head on Sam's chest and one hand in a death-grip on Sam's t-shirt.

Sam let him drool and snore all over him. He couldn't sleep but he lay perfectly still to not disturb Dean while his mind was racing.

Going through the little information he had, Sam could only imagine that Benny had told Dean something. Probably something connected to Dean's past. That was still something Dean refused to talk about.

The fact that he'd tried to steal the phone either meant that he had to warn Bobby in some way and didn't want Sam to know about what or he wanted Bobby to come and get him out of here. Both thoughts didn't ease Sam's mind. In the end he couldn't do anything before Dean was back among the living.

With a sigh Sam tightened his hold on Dean and waited for morning to come.


	24. Chapter 24

Dean woke up with the worst hangover he ever had the pleasure to experience. Clawing his way back to consciousness he was tempted to just led it be and turn over to die but his bladder was very persistent with the fact that he was still alive, unfortunately, and that he better got over to the bathroom. Now.

For a long moment Dean lay perfectly still in hope to just drift back to sleep. At least his head didn't hurt too much as long as he didn't move, just one trillion on a scale from zero to ten, nothing too bad, and when he kept his eyes shut the laser light sun beams melting his eyes out didn't come through full force either and he could just lay there and suffer in silence. But there was the pressure of his bladder and now that he was awake he couldn't deny the foul taste in his mouth, week old road kill with a side of cesspit, tasty.

With a grown Dean rolled to the side he figured the edge of the bed would be and then waited for the world to stop spinning. Then he tried to get vertical.

"Wow, easy." The words cut through his scrambled brain but there were strong hands on his shoulders, moving him around and into what he could only guess was an upright position.

"Bathroom." He mumbled but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and did it grow fur over night?

"Got this." The loud voice answered and when somebody tugged at his elbow, Dean followed the motion to an almost standing. Now he dared to peek out of the slits of his crusty eyes but screwed them shut immediately again.

"Kill me now." He tried to say but the words came up with something sour and next he knew he was hanging over the toilet. With his head in the bowl, a fact his bladder didn't go conform with. Heaving and gagging he didn't have the time or the energy to change his position and so he just gave in to his misery. He was past the point caring if he wet his pants or not but somehow Sam must have gotten the message and one spinning haul later he was sitting on the toilet, crying in relief.

"Think you can manage a shower?" The words still hurt but they weren't red-hot knives cutting through his brain anymore.

Shower sounded good, though. So was brushing his teeth, it felt like that stuff in his mouth was eating through his teeth, but Dean wasn't sure if he was up for the whole standing thing just yet and for now he was content with just sitting on the toilet. Or maybe change back to kneeling, his stomach wasn't quite sure if it was done yet.

In the end Sam put him in the bathtub and washed him like he was a toddler but Dean was too out of it to complain. Quite the opposite, the warm water and Sam's sure hands felt nice. Leaning back he let himself drift off.

Sam helped him back to bed, dosed him up with painkillers and some water and then Dean curled in and waited for what would find him first, death or sleep, he didn't care he just wanted to go back to unconsciousness.

When he woke up the next time he felt better. His head was still pounding and he felt like shit but he was pretty sure that he would live. With his head clearer now the memories came back, though.

Benny had been here. John would get out of prison soon.

Then Dean had taken out the whiskey and everything after that was a blur and more blackout than anything else. He didn't recall going to bed but there was a faint memory on sitting on the floor with Sam next to him.

"Great." Dean groaned and rubbed his face. He needed a shave.

He rolled out of bed and set on the edge for a long moment before he decided it was save enough to go over to the bathroom. At least Sam wasn't here anymore to see his misery. He barked out a humorless laugh, as if Sam hadn't seen more than enough of his misery already.

Half an hour later Dean felt human again and made his way downstairs. He wasn't sure what to tell Sam or what the other man might think of him but it was better to take it head on than to hide upstairs like a coward.

"Coffee?" Sam offered him a cup when he entered the kitchen.

Dean accepted it and took a sip, avoiding Sam's eyes. "This is good."

"I have some dry toast if you like." Sam sat down a plate. "I wouldn't recommend something more challenging right now."

Dean had to agree to that and started nibbling on a slice of toast. His stomach rumbled but he was in no danger of losing it right away. He took another bite.

Sam sat down next to him and Dean knew that this was when the questions would start.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I thought it was a good idea to get drunk." Dean answered. If he told Sam about John, he would ask why John was in prison in the first place and that would lead to ... and no. Just no. He couldn't go there. Not now, not ever.

"You said that Benny was here yesterday." Sam prompted.

Dean nodded, he probably had said that. Now he wondered what else he might have said. Benny had promised to not tell Sam and Dean believed him but he wasn't sure if he could trust himself. He tried to remember more of the night but everything after the fifth glass or so was lost in darkness. There were a few images but that was it.

"And you tried to pick the lock to get my phone." Sam added.

"I did?" He didn't remember that. He needed to warn Bobby, that much he knew, but that he had tried to pick a lock while he was drunk as shit? He could only shake his head to that.

"You wanted to call Bobby." Sam prompted. "You were very persistent about that."

"I ..." Dean cleared his throat. How could he tell Sam that he wanted, needed, to contact Bobby but that the last thing he wanted to happen was for Sam to listen in?

"You know that you only have to ask when you want to call your friend, right?" Sam grabbed his hand which was not holding the toast and gave it a little squeeze. "And you write him emails almost every day ..." He left the words hanging as if he wanted Dean to fill in the blanks.

Dean didn't want to fill in the blanks. He drew his hand back and reached for the his coffee just to disguise the fact that he didn't want the contact right now. Sam was so caring and understanding, that didn't make it easier for Dean here.

"You don't want me to know." Sam said matter-of-factly and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I'm guessing Benny told you something regarding to your past and you want to tell your friend about it, in fact you said you want to warn him, but you don't want me to know what you want to warn him about."

That summed up the situation quite accurately, Dean had to admit. With his head still pounding he couldn't have put it in words like this, though.

"Dean." Sam shook his head in search for the right words. "Do you want to tell him about ... everything?" He made a wide gesture. "Do you want to ask him to get you out?"

"No!" That thought had never crossed Dean's mind. Maybe when he could think straight again but that wasn't on top of his mind. Ironically enough he was safe here with Sam. Nobody knew where he was so John couldn't find him either. But Bobby ... that was a whole different story. John knew where to find him and Bobby had no clue. But how could he make Sam understand without telling him everything?

He might just have to do it, he decided. Just tell him. But when he opened his mouth he couldn't bring the words out. He just couldn't.

"I believe you." Sam said and his expression was so understanding, it hurt. "Dean, can you promise me that whatever you want to tell Bobby has nothing to do with us? Promise me that you're not going to tell him about us, that you don't ask him to help you."

"I promise." His throat was so dry he could barely get the words out. "It's better he doesn't know where I am anyway."

Sam raised an eyebrow to that but didn't ask any farther. Instead he reached into his pocket. And came up with his phone. He laid it on the table and Dean couldn't help but fix his eyes on it. He licked his lips.

"One call to Bobby." Sam said. "I trust you."

"Really?" Dean kept his eyes on the phone as if he feared that it would just vanish if he let it out of his sight for a second.

"Go to your room, I'll stay here." Sam nudged it closer to Dean. "I don't try to eavesdrop and you don't tell him about your situation. Deal?"

"Deal." Headache forgotten Dean grabbed the phone and with one last look at Sam to make sure that he really meant it, he hurried up the stairs. In his room he had to sit down on his bed for a moment. Taking a deep breath Dean dialed the number.

While he listened to the ringing he wondered what would happen if Bobby didn't pick up. Would Sam let him try again later? Would he believe him that he hadn't reached Bobby?

"Singer's Salvage Yard." Finally the gruff voice answered and Dean was about to cry in relief from hearing his voice alone.

"Bobby, it's me."

"Dean?" He sounded surprised and Dean could picture him standing in his kitchen, trucker's cap on his head and his eyes narrowed down in suspicion. "What's up, boy?"

"It's about …" Dean had to clear his throat and still couldn't bring his father's name over his lips. "It's about John."

"What's with that bastard?" Instantly Bobby's voice became more soft and warm and Dean bathed in the affection carried over with those words. Bobby had been the one who didn't turn away, the one who didn't look at him in disgust, the one who took Dean in and was more than a father to him than the bastard who had the biological claim on that title.

"Bobby, he's getting out. Soon." There, he'd said it. Dean let out a long breath he'd been holding since Benny had told him. It felt good to finally say it to somebody.

"Dean, you know he's not getting out ever again." Bobby tried to reassure him but Dean knew better. This time this was not just his paranoia, this time it was real.

"I know this cop …" He started but was interrupted by Bobby.

"Not again." He groaned but in an almost playful tone. The fact that Dean wasn't calling from prison might have told him that he wasn't in trouble. At least not in serious trouble.

"What did you do this time?" His words held the promise to do whatever it took to get Dean out of said trouble, which he'd done more often than Dean wanted to count, and that warmed his heart.

"He's a friend of Sam's." Dean clarified with the hint of a smile. "He ran my name." That part wiped the smile right off his face. "Then he ran John's. Things led to things. Bottom line, John's getting out. There is no date yet but Benny said it would be soon."

There was silence on the other end.

"I just wanted you to know." Dean tried to fill the pause. "He doesn't know where I am but you …"

"Don't worry, I'll keep my shotgun ready."


	25. Chapter 25

Sam forced himself to keep his butt in the chair and to nurse his coffee and to not go upstairs and try to listen in to the conversation. He had promised Dean to not pry and just like Dean had to trust him that he would keep his promise Sam had to trust Dean to do the same. It was hard, though.

If Dean told Bobby about his situation, about the community ... Sam didn't want to think about that. Most likely Bobby wouldn't believe Dean about the supernatural but he would come to Dean's rescue, that much was for sure. Sam had read their emails, hell, he had typed Dean's part of the conversation, and by now he knew how close they were.

For long minutes Sam sat there, cup in hand and watched the coffee going cold. What were they talking about for so long, he wondered. Or had Dean called somebody else? The thought was there, nagging in the back of his mind, but he forced himself to let it go. He had said that he trusted Dean and he did.

When he finally heard the door of Dean's room open, Sam had to force himself to stay where he was and to look relaxed. Which he wasn't, not in the slightest.

"Thank you." Dean put the phone back on the table and sat down next to him. He reached for the abandoned toast he'd left half-eaten on the plate and ripped it into little pieces with nervous fingers. Waiting for the questions, Sam guessed.

"Bobby alright?" He asked, keeping a close eye on Dean. If anything he seemed more at ease now, as if a burden had been lifted off him. Or maybe the painkillers finally did their job and his headache was better.

"He's fine." Dean answered and put a cold piece of toast in his mouth. "He says hi."

"That's good." Sam said but then fell silent because he had no idea what to say next.

"I'm sorry." Dean broke the silence after a few long moments. "For getting trashed like that. Hope I wasn't too much trouble."

"Nah." Sam dismissed him. "You only puked on me."

"Ohh." Dean groaned.

"I'm not asking what Benny told you." Sam started. "But are you in danger?" He had warned his friend but whatever this was, was Dean in danger as well?

"Nobody knows where I am." Dean said with a watery smile. Sam guessed that nobody translated to a special somebody, whoever that might be.

"I knew there had to be topside of our arrangement." He tried to joke. "But if there is something you want to talk about, you know I'm here. And we have the community as backup, if somebody is coming for you, we can keep you safe." He paused, thinking about what those words sounded like. "If somebody comes here to hurt you." He added in a rather weak attempt to downplay what he'd just said.

"Thanks." Dean accepted the words as the reassurance they were meant to be. "But he won't find me here."

"Good." Sam clapped his hands. "What do you want to do today?"

"Don't you have to work?" Dean threw a curious glance at the clock and it was telling that he only now noticed that it was the middle of the week and already one in the afternoon and Sam was still sitting in his sleepwear at the kitchen table.

"I called Ellen and juggled a few things around." Sam shrugged. "I have to stay longer tomorrow and Friday and if I don't get my stuff done by then I have to come in Saturday for a few hours. No big deal."

"Just because I can't hold my liquor." Dean hung his head. "You don't need to stay home just to look after my sorry ass."

"Dean, you were wasted." Sam took his hand once again and this time Dean didn't drew it back. "I was close to getting you to the ER for alcohol poisoning."

"You would do that?" Dean asked, probably fully aware of the complications a trip to the ER would mean for Sam.

"What do you think of me?" Taken aback Sam held on tighter to Dean's hand. "That I would just let you die?"

"I would have deserved it." Dean muttered. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay." Sam reassured him and wondered if they would ever get out of this cycle. "You needed it."

"Why are you taking up with my shit?" Dean shook his head in disbelieve. "Why did you let me call Bobby? Just why?"

At that Sam had to close his eyes for a moment. When would Dean ever understand that he wasn't just something to put up with? That he was worthy?

Sam knew words couldn't reach Dean, not when it came to this, so he did the only thing he could think of. He looked him in the eye for a long moment, then he angled his head and brought their lips together.

Stunned for a moment Dean just let him but then he opened his lips and invited him in. He tasted toothpaste but that couldn't cover the stale whiskey still lingering in the background.

"Want me to make you feel good?" Sam asked, breaking the kiss just long enough for the question.

Dean hummed to that and buried his hands in Sam's hair, holding him close.

"Making you for get?"

It had worked before. Dean's preferred method of dealing with his the memories might be a bottle of Jack but Sam had found out that fucking his brains out did the trick as well. Okay, it was Dean who did the fucking but you get the picture. In the end it didn't matter to Sam who did what in bed as long as Dean gained pleasure from it.

But this right now wasn't about his own needs. This was all about Dean.

Sam guided Dean to sit a little more sideways so he didn't have to crawl under the table for this, which he totally would if that did a little extra for Dean, but this way it was easier. Dropping to his knees between Dean's spread legs, he let his hands wander over Dean's torso and stomach, fully aware of Dean watching him.

Sam knew that it was on the tip of Dean's tongue to tell him that he didn't have to do this but he shut him up before he even could get out a word with burying his face in Dean's crotch. For a moment he just stayed like that, inhaling Dean's scent and feeling the growing hardness under the fabric of Dean's pants on his cheek.

"Getting hard already?" He rubbed his cheek along his length and caught Dean's eyes for a moment.

"You drugged me." Dean defended himself. "With that stuff in your spit it's a miracle I haven't burst the zipper by now."

Sam just grinned and then licked a long line along said zipper with a pointy tongue. He circled the button with the tip.

"Stop teasing." Dean pushed his hip in his face. "Or I'll make you." He growled and Sam's hand sneaked down to his own growing erection at those words.

"You'd like that?" He kept teasing with little nips at the denim. "Holding me down and fuck my face?"

Dean made a sound deep in his throat and his hands found their way into Sam's hair again. For now he let them just rest there, fingers massaging Sam's scalp, but they held the promise of more.

"You need that, don't you?" Sam popped the button open. "Fuck out all the anger. The fear."

"Stop talking and get to work." Dean said but didn't deny Sam's assumption.

"Don't go easy on me." Sam lifted his head to catch Dean's eye. "Do whatever you need, you won't hurt me."

Dean swallowed visibly and gave him a short nod. And with that Sam opened the zipper and shoved the jeans and underwear down far enough to get Dean's cock out. He gave it a lick from base to tip to wet it a little before he dove right in.

At first Dean let him do whatever he wanted but kept his hands on his head, building up anticipation. Sam sucked and licked his way up and down Dean's length, waiting for Dean to take control. The first few minutes he used his hand to cover the base and focused on the tip but then he switched to his specialty and took him down to the root in one swift move. He knew what this did to Dean and it didn't fail him this time either. Dean threw his head back in an inarticulate cry and now his grip tightened, holding Sam down.

Sam worked him with the muscles of his throat, swallowing around the cock filling him deeply and with his lips stretched wide around the base. His eyes watered but he could still make out the expression on Dean's face when he glanced upward. Dark and hungry.

When the need for air became overwhelming Sam began to struggle but Dean held him down for just a moment longer. They both knew that Sam could break free if he wanted to but Dean knew exactly how long Sam could take it and released him just in time. At least far enough to breathe.

Sam tried to get air into his lungs while Dean started to fuck his face in earnest. Now the only thing he could do was to slacken his jaw and let Dean take him.

Dean pounded in deep, hitting the back of Sam's throat with every thrust. Sam writhed in his grip at that sensation until he had found the right angle to take him just a little deeper.

It didn't take long and he spilled his release, barely giving Sam time to swallow while he spasmed through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Sam stayed on is knees for a little while longer, head resting at Dean's knee and too wrung out to wipe the mixture of spit and come from his face.

"Shit, are you okay?" Dean seemed to release how roughly he'd used his mouth with a delay and Sam barked out a laugh.

"I told you that you can go rough." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. "This was good."

He didn't get off and was still achingly hard but this had been about Dean. Without really wanting it he had fed on what Dean had offered during the blowjob so he was good.

"You didn't come." Dean observed and with his foot he nudged Sam's knees farther apart. Wondering where this was heading Sam obeyed and spread his legs wider. For some reason Dean had put his work boots back on and the feeling of the heavy material on the inner sides of his knee went right to his cock.

The tip of the boot slowly made its way up to his crotch. Sam hold his breath, eyes on Dean's concentrated face. When the boot reached his balls, Sam sucked in his bottom lip but didn't move. The steel cap of the boot now firmly pressed to his most vulnerable parts he had to will his legs to stay spread open while every instinct told him to protect himself.

Ever so slowly Dean moved the boot up his erection, the pressure just borderline to painful.

"Take it out."

Sam hurried to follow the command and then the boot was back, the hard and dirty work boot on his bare skin.

"You like this, don't you?" Dean said in a low voice. "You could come like this. My drying come on your face and my dirty boot on your dick."

"Yes." Sam breathed out and leaned back, bracing himself on the kitchen floor.

"I want to see that." He covered Sam's erection with the sole, grinding down his heel on Sam's balls. Not too hard but hard enough for him to gasp and his trembling legs to close.

"Uh, uh." Without loosening the pressure on his balls and cock, Dean kicked his legs farther open with his other foot. "Keep them spread for me."

Sam nodded and brought his legs apart a little wider.

"And now show me how much you like my boot."

Dean met him with every thrust, sparking up the pain until Sam was a writhing mess under his boot. Tears ran down his face, the pain just this side of too much, and with choked cries Sam spurted his release over the boot working him merciless through his orgasm.

"Look what you've done." Dean finally let go of him. "You made it all dirty."

Without a second though Sam bent down and cleaned it up.


	26. Chapter 26

It never failed to amaze Dean what Sam let him do to him when it came to sex. Dean had just made him come over a fucking boot, in this case quite literally, and he even licked his own come from Dean's dirty work boot.

"Before you say anything, it's cool." Sam stood up, wiped the tears and the come from his face and tucked himself back in. "In case you haven't noticed, I got off on it."

Dean bit back the words on the tip of his tongue and grinned sheepishly. Sam knew him too well.

But Dean had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that Sam not only was okay with him taking the lead, no, he eagerly obeyed to Dean's more commanding side. At least in bed. That was something Dean had never experienced before. The partners he had before had been quite vanilla and he'd never been comfortable enough to express is desire to play a little more rough in bed. In the rare case something like this had come up it had always been his partner who wanted to play the dominant part and that wasn't Dean's thing. He'd been the obedient worthless shit all his life.

Dean stopped his train of thoughts at that. It was true but he'd never really admitted it, not even to himself. But with Sam it was different. Technically he was just something Sam had bought to feed on but even in the beginning their relationship hadn't been like that. Not really.

And while Dean liked the power he had over Sam in bed, he never thought of him as worthless shit. He had made him lick his boots but all he'd felt at that sight was astonishment and pride that Sam was willing to do this for him.

"Couch?" Sam asked and yawned. "We could watch some TV."

Dean knew Sam would fall asleep in a minute here. And Dean would follow him right away. The hangover still lingered and now he felt tired from Sam feeding on him on top of that. Whatever they would settle on watching on TV neither of them would make it to the next commercial break, he was sure of that.

"I know this sounds weird." Dean snuggled deeper into the corner of the couch and stretched is legs until his feet lay in Sam's lap. "But I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

For a long moment Sam stared at him as if he didn't quite believed his ears.

"If this is the best that ever happened to you." He finally said while he tried to cover his blush by rubbing his chin. "I don't want to know how crappy your life has been before this."

"I don't want you to know either." Dean turned his head towards the TV and was grateful when Sam got the hint and dropped the topic.

The fact that John would get free soon was a constant thing in the back of Dean's mind but he had warned Bobby so John wouldn't catch his friend unprepared and Dean was safely locked away in his golden cage and was with that out of John's reach.

Instead of brooding over things he couldn't change, Dean threw himself back into work. The first cars were ready for delivery, with his signature on the rear and a business card tucked into the package. By now the website was online as well and Dean never grew tired of looking at it.

Susan had added pictures of the finished cars but those were only examples, every car was unique.

What surprised Dean the most was that orders came in. Just two for now but the site had been online for less than a week.

"I need more material." Dean said one Friday evening over dinner. "I can finish the old orders with what I have at hand but for the new ones I need more."

Sam had said he would go with him to scrap yards but now Dean wasn't sure if he'd keep his word.

"We could go out tomorrow." Sam answered easily around a mouth full of salad.

"Really?" Dean hadn't expected to go right away and had already mentally calculated for how long he could stretch what he had. If he really had to he could build the two new cars with what he had in the basement.

"Of course." Sam shrugged but Dean caught the little amused smile. He knew he reacted like an overgrown puppy every time Sam agreed to his suggestions but he wasn't used to this. Bobby had been the only other person who would do something for him without a second thought but even with him it had never been something he counted on. So yeah, Dean was surprised every time Sam granted him something.

The next day they went out. This was only the second time Dean had left the building and he felt like he was about to visit Disneyland and not some old scrap yards.

Sam had three on his list they could hit and Dean was pretty sure that at least the first one was run by somebody from the community. Sam hadn't said anything about that but he would be stupid if he let Dean out without as much security as he could master. Not that Dean intended to do something. Technically he was still a prisoner, the fact that Sam had to break the spell before he could leave brought that little fact back to mind more vivid than ever, but oddly enough by now he was content with that.

Sam was giving him more and more freedom so Dean didn't want to screw that up. Instead he planned on stretching his boundaries one bit at a time and who knew maybe they could skip that stupid spell one day all together. He knew that wasn't exactly a healthy mindset and he probably should google Stockholm Syndrome just for the hell of it but as long as he was aware of how fucked up this was, it wasn't that bad, right?

However, the man running the first scrap yard could not possibly be human. No way. If he ever went out of business with the yard he could ask the Addams Family if they needed a new butler.

What the man was Dean had no clue, however, he figured it wouldn't be polite to just ask so he kept his mouth shut.

Dean was more interested in the scrap anyway. And creepy or not, that man had quite some stuff to sell.

"This is awesome." Dean made a full circle on his heel to take in his surroundings. Sam caught up with him, he'd exchanged a few words with the owner, and made an inviting gesture.

"All yours, have a look around."

Dean hadn't need to be told twice. Still grinning like an idiot he made his first round around the yard just to get a feeling for what was there before he had a closer look at the things which had already caught his eye. Sam followed him a bit slower and with less enthusiasm but the fact that he'd come here with Dean spoke for itself.

If Dean could just take whatever he wanted he would carry the stuff out of here in truck-loads but for one they had only Sam's car to get the scrap home and second Dean didn't know what Sam was willing to pay for this.

Dean would pay him back as soon as possible but for now it was all on Sam. And if he was honest, Dean had no idea how expensive the scrap was. How did they even sell this? In tons?

They spent the whole day scooping around scrap yards and in the end Sam's trunk was full to the roof and Sam was worried if the axis could hold the weight. Dean reassured him that it would hold but silently he was praying that he was right.

When they left the third yard, run by a middle aged woman Dean was pretty sure was human, he slipped into the passenger seat and sighted when he stretched his legs. He couldn't remember when he'd walked any length of time outside. Not since he got captured by the werewolves but he shoved that thought back into the depth of his mind, the day was too good for dark thoughts like that.

By now Sam must be equally exhausted as well but that couldn't wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"You hungry?" Sam asked and started the car.

"I'm starving." Dean admitted. They hadn't thought of food and had only a few energy bars Sam had grabbed at a gas station earlier. While he'd been inside to pay, Dean had stayed in the car. Neither of them had really thought about that at that time, only when Sam slipped back into the car it occurred to them both how easily Dean could have gotten away. For a long moment they just stared at each other, Sam with a coke in his outstretched hand and a bag dangling from the other one.

"Thanks, man." Dean accepted the coke as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Now he wondered what Sam had in mind. The safest thing would be a drive-through but they had been to a diner before. However, by now it was late enough in the day for the dinner rush.

Sam parked in front of a diner and for a moment they just sat in the car, staring into the bright windows. It wasn't packed but there were guests.

"We could just grab something to go." Dean offered when he sensed Sam hesitating. "We don't have to do this."

"That's usually my thing to say." Sam said with a smile. "Same rules as before. What do you think?"

"Deal." Dean nodded to that. The day had been awesome so far and having dinner here and not at home would just make it perfect. They got out of the car and Dean followed Sam inside. When Sam asked for a quiet corner, the waitress seated them in the back. They were closer to the restrooms here, that was probably the reason the table was still empty, but they sat a little aside and that was all that mattered, Dean figured.

The waitress brought the menus and Dean ordered a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and fries, much to Sam's amusement.

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him when the waitress left with their orders. "I haven't eaten all day." And he didn't want to think about the tons of scrap metal he'd moved over the last few hours. Tomorrow he'd pay the price with sore muscles but it would be worth it.

While they waited for their food something else caught Dean's attention and he glanced at the door to the restroom.

"Ehm, Sam?" He cleared his throat. The last thing he wanted to happen was that Sam went with him to the toilet, he didn't want to think about what that would look like, but this was rather urgent.

"Hmm?"

"I, ehm, is it okay if I ...?" He jerked his head in the direction of the restrooms. "Is it okay if I go real quick? I'll be right back, promise?"

Sam thought about that for a moment and Dean was sure that he would insist on coming with him but then he nodded.

"Make it quick."

It was stupid how good it felt to go to the restroom all by himself but it didn't keep Dean from humming while he took care of his business. And no, he didn't eye the window and wondered if he could squeeze through that tiny thing.

Where would he go anyway? One phone call from Sam and the police and the whole community would be after him. And if he was honest, he wanted to go home with Sam. Spend the evening on the couch with him and then sleep in the same bed as him.

However, there was an idea forming in his mind. He was still humming happily when he returned to their table.


	27. Chapter 27

Back home Sam helped Dean to get the boxes out of the car and then went upstairs to redo the spell while Dean stayed in the basement, sorting through all the new stuff he got.

"Should I come upstairs and stay in my room while you do that?" Dean had offered but after the day they'd spent outside with Dean unsupervised for quite some time it was rather pointless.

Sam did hurry to set the spell, though. And only then, when Dean was safely locked away again, Sam allowed himself to think about the risks he'd taken over the day. Dean had so many opportunities to escape or to ask somebody to help him and he might have even thought about it at one point or the other but in the end he'd stayed with Sam. Which meant what? Because he liked being with Sam? Or had Sam fucked him up mentally this badly?

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts Sam left his room and opened the door to the stairways leading to the basement. He didn't want Dean to know but he needed to confirm that Dean was still there and hadn't used the chance to run away. There were noises coming from downstairs, metal on metal and a scrapping sound as if something was dragged over the cement floor. Satisfied Sam closed the door and went back to his room to grab a shower. Dean had been the one who had crawled through piles of scrap metal but Sam was not less dirty.

Later they came together for a lazy evening on the couch, the day had been exhausting for both of them, however, if Sam was honest, it had been fun and he was looking forward to the next time they needed to go on a supply run.

"I should tell Bobby about this." Dean said, a question hidden in his words. He still had to ask every time he wanted to contact his friend but Sam wasn't comfortable with letting him just chat with him without supervision. Dean didn't seem to mind, though.

So Sam got the laptop and typed Dean's enthusiastic report of the day. In this version Sam had offered to drive him since his own car was still stored at Bobby's and Dean made fun of Sam's lack of enthusiasm for hanging out on scrap yards. Of course Bobby asked when Dean wanted to pick up his car and the only thing Dean could say was "Not sure yet.".

For a moment Sam thought about visiting Dean's friend and he allowed himself to indulge in the thought of a road trip with Dean, seeing his friend and doing fun stuff like having diner food and sleeping in motels. But a second later he dismissed the idea. That would be far to dangerous. Dean hadn't tried to escape here in town, probably because he knew that the community was everywhere and his chances of getting out of town without getting caught were slim to nonexistent. But on a road trip ...

No, Sam wasn't ready to risk something like that. He felt guilty for keeping Dean prisoner, he did, and he was sure that there was something on Dean's side that made him stick to Sam but Sam wasn't quite ready for testing their bond like this.

A thing he was ready for, though, was for another trip into town with Dean the next Tuesday.

"You have an appointment at five." Sam said over breakfast. He hadn't said anything before because he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"I have?" Dean looked up from his pancakes. "You're not taking me to the vet, aren't you?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Sam tried to laugh it off but it did sting a little how easily Dean was joking about this. "I thought with your business coming along just fine it's time for you to get your own bank account."

Dean froze with the fork half-way to his mouth. Slowly he put it down.

"Bank account?"

"If you want to run a business you need a bank account." Sam shrugged.

For a long moment Dean just sat there, thinking. This wasn't just about a random account, this meant much more and they both knew it. Dean was supposed to stand on his own feet with his business and that meant he needed his own money.

"Awesome." Dean grinned at him and went back to his pancakes.

After work Sam picked Dean up and drove them over to the bank. It was the same one where Sam had his account. So had most of the community.

"Mr. Campbell." The bank assistant, whose name Sam didn't bother to remember, greeted him and only with a delay he offered his hand to Dean. Sam raised an eyebrow to that but didn't say a word. They followed the man into his office where they took their seats.

"Mr. Campbell, what can I do for you today?" The man asked, completely ignoring Dean.

"Nothing for me today." Sam answered coldly. "But my friend here wants to set up a bank account."

Now the man eyed Dean as if he was an insect, barely worth his attention.

"I see." He brought his fingertips together and his attention wandered back to Sam. "Of course we offer service to people outside ..." He made a meaningful gesture towards Sam to indicate the community without saying the word in front of an outsider.

"Look, chuckles." Fed up Dean spoke up. "This is a bank, I want a bank account. Do your job."

"I see." He pursed his lips. "No problem, sir. We'll get you set up before you know it."

His sudden friendliness was false and he didn't do anything to hide that fact.

"With community benefits." Sam added. That was the only reason he put up with this guy and hadn't chosen another bank to take Dean's business. The community offered some nice benefits for their members and why shouldn't Dean profit from that as well.

"Ehm ..." At least that wiped the smug expression from that guys face. "He's not part of the ... community." The man pointed out, hesitating at the last word as if it wasn't obvious that Dean knew about them.

"I think he is." Sam answered and sat up straighter in his chair. He let some of his true nature bleed into his posture and was now looming dark over the man behind the desk. It was a neat trick but the man countered with obsidian black eyes.

"He is human." The demon clarified. "And as that not part of the community."

"He's my associate and as that he is." Sam demanded while Dean just sat back and watched the pissing contest. Sam couldn't help it, he was proud of Dean for not flinching when the demon revealed his nature.

They stared at each other for a while, neither of them ready to break eye contact, but in the end it was the demon who looked away first.

"I can't decide this." He reached for the phone. "Mr. Crowley?"

The demon had barely hung up when there was suddenly a voice behind Sam: "Hello, Moose."

Sam had expected the demon to appear like this, he liked his dramatic entrances, but Dean wasn't used to people suddenly appearing and announced his surprise with a "Son of a bitch!".

"Who's your friend?" Crowley's attention was on Dean immediately. Unlike his employee Crowley didn't seem to have a problem with Dean being just a mere human.

"This is my associate Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Crowley, he runs the bank." Sam introduced them.

"I'm just a humble member of the community." Crowley shook Dean's hand. "What can I do for you today?"

He looked from Dean to Sam and back again.

"Mr. Campbell brought his … friend in to get him a bank account." The demon behind the desk spoke up. "With community benefits." He said the last part as if he was offended by the idea alone.

"I can't remember asking you." Crowley glared at him and then turned back to Dean. "Community benefits, that's an unusual request."

Dean held his gaze, not budging down when the demon stared at him. Sam stepped around Crowley to close shoulders with Dean, they were in this together.

"You know, Moose." Crowley finally said. "I still owe your for that thing with that thing in that thing. So why not."

"But, sir." The demon really didn't know when to shut up. Sam half expected Crowley to just vaporize him but instead he glared at him again. It was enough for the man to realize that now was the right time to shut up.

"Haven't you heard Mr. Campbell? Mr. Winchester is his associate and as that he is an associate of the community."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." The demon didn't dare to look anybody in the eye and just kept himself busy with hitting buttons on this computer.

"Well, then." Crowley clapped Sam's shoulder and pointed his finger at Dean. "We should go out some day, have a few drinks and then you have to tell me how the mighty Sam Campbell got himself an associate."

"Yeah, we should do that." Sam agreed with a smile and maybe he should do that. It had been a while since he'd been out just for fun. And Crowley knew how to have fun. As long as he wasn't responsible for the snacks ... Sam didn't want to think about what Crowley had brought last time. But what could you expect from a demon, right?

With that Crowley disappeared the same way he'd come in.

"Dude, that's a neat little trick." Dean grinned like a kid. "You know for a supernatural creature you're kinda lame, Sammy."

Sam's breath hitched at the _Sammy_. Nobody called him _Sammy_ and if somebody felt like he should try it, he never felt like that a second time. With Dean saying it, Sam wasn't sure, it felt kinda nice?

"So, your name is Dean Winchester?" The demon interrupted them and Sam needed a second to bring his mind back on track.

Everything was set up in a couple of minutes and then they were on their way back home.

"So, demons running the bank." Dean leaned back in his seat. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Crowley is a salesman at heart." Sam shrugged.

"And he's calling you Moose?"

"Don't you dare." Sam shot him a dirty look. He could live with _Sammy_ but Dean calling him _Moose_? That was just wrong.

Back home Dean set up dinner but Sam could tell that there was still something on his mind. He didn't know if this was about their trip to the bank or if it was something else but he waited patiently for Dean to start talking.

"So, we were at the bank today." Dean did start talking over dinner. For some reason that was the time they usually had their serious conversations and Sam wondered what Dean would bring up.

"Hmm." He made.

"The other day we went to the scrap yards, a gas station and a diner." Dean summed up their adventure. "And you trusted me."

"I did." Sam swallowed and added: "I do. What's on your mind?"

"A bar." Dean said. "We go out, grab something to eat, have a few drinks, play some pool and when we get home we get you fed for real."

The trips they'd made before were one thing, manageable situations with a minimum of people involved. Situations where Sam could keep an eye on Dean and where there was no temptation for Dean to try something. A bar was a whole different thing.

"I know what you're thinking." Dean interrupted his thoughts. "Just hear me out, okay?"

Sam nodded. This reminded him of the coffee and pie trip Dean had suggested a while ago. He'd thought it through then too so Sam wondered what he would come up with this time. He was willing to at least listen to the idea.

Dean hurried to get a pen and paper and scribbled something down before he handed it over to Sam.

"What's this?"

"Robert Steven Singer." Dean tapped the paper with the pen. "That's his address. You know he runs a salvage yard, he's in the Yellow Pages you can look him up. C'mon, you have a vampire cop on speed dial. If I try something …"


	28. Chapter 28

There was only one thing Dean could offer as insurance and that was Bobby. By now Sam knew how much that man meant to him so he hoped that Sam would realize what Dean was offering here.

"Dean." Sam breathed out and when he looked up at Dean his eyes were a little bit too shiny. He understood, good.

Knowing that he'd almost won Dean sat back down.

"C'mon, we'll have some fun." He could already picture it in his head. "And you haven't fed for real in a while." He knew how to sweeten the pot.

"You're impossible."

"That's why you like me so much." Dean countered easily. There was something else he wanted from Sam and he figured it would be a nice bonus, just a little extra, but he didn't know how to address what was on his mind.

"Dean?" Of course Sam had caught on to his stalling.

"When we've sex after the bar." He started and then stopped, this sounded so stupid. But if he couldn't talk to an incubus about sex …

"Yeah?" That bastard even sounded amused by Dean blushing like a virgin here.

"I want you to fuck me for a change." There, he'd said it.

"I thought that wasn't your thing." Sam pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on the table, eying Dean closely. "You don't have to offer that to make this more attractive for me."

"It's not that." Great, now Sam got the wrong idea. He may should have waited for another time. It wasn't so that Sam wouldn't need some quality time in bed every now and then. "I just want to try it."

"You've never done it before?" The bar idea forgotten Sam picked up on this. Of course.

Dean snorted to that. "I have done it before. It wasn't great."

"So why now? Not that I mind." Sam hurried to add. "I'm fine either way. We don't have to change anything to make it better for me."

"I just want to know if I really don't like it or if the other guys just didn't work out for me." Now Dean gave him a shy smile. "If an incubus can't make me like it, I know it really isn't my thing."

Sam watched him for a moment, obviously trying to figure out if Dean was serious.

"You know I'm open to almost everything. Of course we can try it. I can make it the best fuck you ever got." Sam grinned at him in a way only an incubus could, however, a second later he became serious again. "But I need your word that you tell me to stop if you don't feel like it anymore."

"Sure." If anything Dean knew that Sam would never force anything on him he wasn't completely okay with. At first it had simple been because Sam wouldn't get anything out of it if Dean wasn't truly enjoying the sex but by now there was more between them. Respect for one. Affection and maybe even something like love.

Dean hurried to think about something else. Feelings weren't his thing and his feelings towards Sam were a tangled mess at least.

"So it's set?" Dean started to stack the dishes. "We hit a bar and roll in the sheets afterwards?"

Now Sam chuckled. "You know, just because I'm an incubus it doesn't mean you can just offer sex and get everything you want."

Putting the dishes in the washer Dean gave him a look over his shoulder. "It works."

Sam shook his head while he tapped the piece of paper with his fingertips, clearly considering the idea.

"Okay."

"Awesome."

They settled for Saturday evening, if they did this, they had to do it right Dean insisted and Sam gave in way too easily.

On Saturday Dean was up early and the evening couldn't come around quickly enough. Over the afternoon he'd decided and changed and reconsidered his outfit five times before he settled for the one he'd come up with in the first place. Over the weeks Sam had gotten him quite a wardrobe, God bless online shops, and it was hard to make a decision.

"I feel like a girl." Dean muttered at his reflection in the mirror, a shirt in each hand, trying to figure out which one worked best with his eyes. They were hitting a bar so it shouldn't be too fancy but on the other hand he wanted to look nice for Sam.

"The green one." Sam said from the door, where he'd sneaked up on Dean.

"You think?" Dean squinted at the mirror.

"Dean, this is not a date. We're just hanging out." Sam said in a clearly amused tone. He closed the distance between them, now standing behind Dean, and a second later his big hands were kneading the tense muscles of Dean's neck. "Relax."

Dean let himself lean into the solid wall of Sam behind him and closed his eyes to focus on the strong fingers working the knots out of his muscles.

"We still have some time." Sam purred into his ear. "I know a way to get you relaxed."

"So I'll just fall asleep afterwards?" Dean craned his neck to look him in the eye. "Not happening. Bar first."

"Spoilsport." Sam sighed theatrically.

"You're not getting out of this by sucking my energy out."

"You like me sucking you." Sam pouted but Dean knew he wasn't serious. If anything Sam was as nervous as Dean. Maybe not out of the same reason but the tension radiating from him was almost palpable.

"Don't worry, I'll behave." Dean brought their lips together for a quick kiss but drew back when Sam parted his lips to invite him farther in. "And you behave, too."

Dean had been a little worried about what kind of place Sam would take him to. He pegged Sam for a more fancy guy, stylish clubs and expensive drinks with exotic names, that kind of thing. Not a down to earth, dirty work guy. C'mon, he was an office rocker with too much money on his hands.

But once again Sam surprised him.

"This what you had in mind?" He parked the car in front of a bar. Dean took in the bikes, the pick-up trucks and the neon bar'n'grill sign with some lights missing.

"Perfect." Dean grinned at him and then hurried to get out of the car. This was a place he would feel at home, he knew that before he'd even entered the bar.

It was loud and full and great. They got one of the last free tables, most of the patrons were gathered around the bar and the pool tables and Dean wondered if he should try to make some money there. Just for the hell of it.

But first they had some fries dripping with frying oil and a greasy burger. Dean washed it down with a beer followed by a shot and then he ordered more drinks.

"You're having fun?" Dean had to rise his voice over the noises of the bar but the wide grin on Sam's was answer enough. "In for a game?" He nodded towards the tables. He didn't see a free one but they could at least go over to watch and maybe join in for a game or two. God, had he missed this.

Sam followed him over to the tables and for a while they just watched a group of bikers.

"Hey." A woman came up at his side and suddenly the evening became even better. "Haven't seen you here before."

He took in her open smile, the brunette hair and the body to die for, oh yeah, life was good. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam tensing up but they were here to have some fun and that included talking to people. And if those people were pretty ...

"I'm Dean." He answered easily. "I'm not from here."

"Emily." She brought their heads close together so they could understand each other over the noises, at least that was the official reason he guessed. "Are you alone here?"

"With a friend." He nodded towards Sam who watched them like a hawk while he held on to his beer bottle for dear life.

"Cool." She threw a glance in Sam's direction but instantly forgot about him, her attention was on Dean. "Buy me a drink?"

Only now it occurred to Dean that he didn't have a single dollar in his pocket. He hadn't any use for money in so long he hadn't even thought of asking Sam if he could borrow him some.

"Ehm ... sorry." Lost at an explanation he threw a helpless glance in Sam's direction. Who went to a bar without money in his pocket? On the other hand if he bought her a drink that would lead in a direction he couldn't go. Not with Sam in the background, not under this circumstances. And if he was honest, he was flattered by her interest and the Dean before all this would have jumped at the opportunity but now he wasn't really interested.

"Actually, I'm here with my boyfriend."

"Your what?" She asked back as if she wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly or not.

"My boyfriend." Dean repeated with more confidence now. "I'm sorry." And with that he returned to Sam's side.

"I'm your boyfriend now?" Sam raised an amused eyebrow at him and handed him a fresh beer.

Dean shrugged. "We live together and have sex on a regular basis, that's pretty much the definition of boyfriend." He glossed over the whole sex slave issue, he knew that, but this was neither the time nor the place to discuss that. And it sounded right. Boyfriend. Dean shook his head and took a gulp from the bottle.

"Here, sorry, I forgot." He felt Sam's hand in his and a small bundle pressed into his palm. "So you can buy her a drink next time."

Dean accepted it but didn't intent to buy some random girl a drink. It wouldn't be fair to play along when he already knew he would have to say no in the end. And he didn't want a quickie on the toilet while Sam was waiting outside, just no.

When they got the chance they joined a game with two of the bikers. Tough guys who could hold their liquor and played a good game. It was fun.

They left the bar late and not quite sober, okay make that stupid ass drunk, but happy and in a good mood. Dean had his arm over Sam's shoulder and vice versa and together they were steady on their legs. More or less.

Sam had called a cab but it wasn't here yet so they just stood outside in the parking lot while they waited. The fresh air cleared Dean's head, at least a bit, and the wide grin was back on his face when he thought of what they'd planned for when they came home.

"Think you've enough stamina left?" Dean nudged Sam with his elbow. Sam had to lean heavily on a car to not double over.

"Don't worry, stamina won't be a problem." Sam assured him and clumsily reached for him to bring their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. They were in a public parking lot, in front of a busy bar but Dean couldn't care less about the circumstances. They kissed with open mouths, all wet and messy, and Dean welcomed the effect of Sam's saliva which went straight to his dick.

With Sam's back against the car he had no room to squirm away and Dean used the chance to wiggle his knee between his legs and bring their bodies together. By now he felt his half-hard cock straining against the tightness of his jeans and grinding against Sam brought just the right amount of friction to ache for more.

"When we get home." Sam promised hot in his ear.

"What the fuck?" Suddenly a new voice carried over the parked cars. "Get a way from my fucking car. I can't believe it. Fucking faggots. Doing it right on my car."


	29. Chapter 29

Sam wanted to kick himself. How could he'd been so careless? He'd kept an watchful eye on Dean when that girl had flirted with him and on the bikers they'd played pool with. He'd watched like a hawk every time somebody came near Dean, had waited anxiously when Dean had been to the restroom and now he'd gotten careless. They were on their way home, he'd thought it was over and they would just go home for some good sex. He should have known better, hell, he knew better than to kiss and make out in front of a fucking bar full with bikers and rednecks and all sorts of closed-minded people.

However, it wasn't the bikers who came for them now.

At their yelling, loud and mean words slurred by too much alcohol, Sam and Dean parted, bringing some space between their bodies but the damage was already done.

"Sorry." Sam raised his hands in a defensive manner and stepped away from the car. "We're leaving."

He jerked his head for Dean to follow. But Dean just stood there like a deer in the headlights.

"Yeah, run." The leader of the group called after him and earned quite some laughter and praise from his friends. Sam scanned the group and found only young faces with the confidence that they could rule the world if they wanted to written all over their faces. The alcohol didn't enhance their grasp on reality, quite the opposite. And they were a group, Sam counted six people, four guys and two girls, and he knew how quickly this could escalate.

"Dean?" He tried to get Dean's attention but he didn't seem to hear him.

"Hey, faggot." The leader stepped right in front of Dean, invading his personal space. That he was at least a head shorter than Dean didn't dampen his courage, though. "You dumb?"

That got Dean out of his stupor. He shook his head as if he had just woken up and needed to orientate himself.

"I asked you if you're dumb." The man, more like a teen, pushed Dean and out of reflex Dean tried to shield his face. That was enough for things to escalate.

Sam tried to get to Dean when he saw the punk raising his fist but he was too slow. The fist connected with Dean's head and he went down like a rag doll. The others cheered as if punk guy had just knocked out Mike Tyson and for good measure he kicked Dean in the stomach before he turned to his friends to bath in their attention.

"Dumb faggot." Sam heard him say before he was on him. Sam pushed him over and punk boy landed face first on the asphalt and for a second everything was eery quiet.

Then Dean groaned and fought his way back to his feet.

"You okay?" Sam asked without letting the others out of his view.

"That asshole pushed me." Punk boy came back to his feet as well. "You'll pay for that."

And with that they went wild. One of the girls flung herself at Sam with a beer bottle aimed at his face but he managed to dodge the blow. The rest became a blur of throwing punches and avoiding them. Sam had the advantage that he was the biggest one of them all and by far the strongest but he was drunk and that made him slow and clumsy.

He was not worried about his own safety. Even if they landed a few hits, they couldn't kill or permanently damage him, Dean on the other hand was human and could get injured or even killed. Dean stood his ground quite well, though. One guy lay knocked out at his feet and he had the upper hand on another one.

In the end Sam was the only one left standing. The girls had been the smart ones and had run when they'd noticed that Sam was invincible. One of the guys was out cold, punk and a second one were on the ground, holding injured limbs and the last one had a busted nose and was busy bleeding.

"Dean?" Dean was still on his feet but he was swaying and had to brace himself on his knees. He was breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf. "Dean?"

Sam wiped blood and sweat from his face with his sleeve and with the other hand he reached for Dean.

"Please, Dad! Don't!" Dean cried out and fell backwards over his own feet in the blind attempt to get away. He landed hard on his butt and then scrambled farther away, shielding his head with one arm. He kicked and screamed and wouldn't let Sam anywhere near him.

"Get him to shut the fuck up or I'm calling the police." A new voice joined in and Sam bit back the curse on his lips. He was sick of more people getting involved in this. When he looked around the parking lot was full with people. One or two were helping the punk and his friends but most of them just stared at Sam and the still screaming Dean on the ground. The new voice belonged to the barkeeper who had brought his shotgun along.

"We'll leave." Sam promised and knelt down next to Dean to somehow get him out of here. He felt all eyes on him but blocked them out and focused on Dean instead.

"Dean, it's me." He didn't like it but they had to get out of here as quickly as possible before the barkeeper either called the police, which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world but Sam wasn't in the mood to deal with shit like that right now, or worse decided that the two faggots in his lot were a threat and pumped their asses full with buck.

So Sam grabbed Dean's arms and pinned them down at his side and with that forced him too look him in the face.

"Dean, it's me."

For a moment it looked like Dean wouldn't snap out of it but then he blinked up at him in confusion.

"Sammy?" The word was slurred but at least he knew who was holding him down.

"Yeah, it's me." The smile on his lips was genuine and the people around them could just go and fuck themselves. He held out a hand to help Dean up. "You ready to go home?"

One their drive home Dean didn't say a word. He just sat in the back of the cab, his face way too pale with the shadow of a blooming bruise on his cheek and a small cut under his left eye but that had stopped bleeding by now. The cab driver didn't bat an eye when he saw them, all ruffed up, but picking people up at places like this he was probably used to far worse.

When they arrived Sam payed and then threw an arm around Dean's waist to steady him and like that the walked up the driveway.

"Home, sweet home." Sam muttered and opened the door. Dean had still not said a word and it started to worry Sam. The blow to the head had been quite a hit and he wasn't sure if they weren't dealing with a concussion here. At least he wanted to clean up the small cut and get Dean some ice for his bruised face.

Finally upstairs Sam guided Dean over to the kitchen to have a look at him and while he tapped away the dried blood with a wet towel Dean became more alive.

"Just give me a minute." He mumbled and Sam really hoped it was the alcohol slurring his speech or maybe the lingering effect of the panic attack and not a head trauma.

"You want something for the pain?" Dean hadn't vocalized anything but the way he was holding himself, he had to be in pain.

"I'm ready, we can ... we can ... do this." Dean said instead of an answer. Unsure what to do Sam stood in the middle of the kitchen, wet towel in one hand and a glass of water for the pill in the other. Dean didn't really look at him and Sam wasn't sure if he fully comprehended what was going on around him.

Then Dean stood up and walked over to the stairs. His movement was stiff and uncoordinated but he started his way upstairs.

"Dean?" Sam hurried after him just to be there in case he stumbled and decided to take the quick way down.

Like in trance Dean made his way up the stairs and then headed for Sam's bedroom.

"We can do it. Just ... just ..." He struggled with his shirt and slowly it dawned on Sam where his mind went.

"Dean, no." He held Dean's hands down who still tried to get out of his shirt. "We're not going to have sex." What was Dean even thinking? Sam wasn't entirely sure if they shouldn't drop in to the next ER and get some x-rays of Dean's head, for sure they wouldn't have sex like this. However, that seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

Suddenly Dean was on his knees, with tears in his eyes and fumbling with Sam's belt.

"Please, it's okay, we can do this, it's okay, just ... a minute, I'm ready, we can do this, it's okay ..." The words came out as a constant stream of slurred sounds, hard to understand but it was clear what Dean wanted to say.

"Hey." Gently Sam pried Dean's hand from his pants. He helped him up and guided him over to the bed where they sat down. Dean was crying now. He clung to Sam and was constantly assuring him that he was up for it. Sam didn't sense anything like pleasure or arousal coming from Dean so this was not because his scrambled eggs had made him horny for some weird reason.

"Shh, it's okay." Sam drew him in closer until Dean's head rested on his chest and he could hold him tight. "We don't have to do this."

"We have to." Dean protested into his shirt. "Bar'n'sex or Bobby ..." The rest was lost in a bubbling mess and Sam felt tears and snot soaking through his shirt. But he didn't loosen his grip on Dean. Stroking his head he tried to calm the other man down.

"Nothing is going to happen to Bobby." He reassured him. How could he even think that Sam would hurt Bobby if Dean didn't have sex with him right now? Okay, thinking wasn't Dean's strong suit at the moment.

"You did good at the bar, that's what counts. Bobby is safe."

"He is?" Dean still sounded wary and Sam felt his whole body tremble.

"He is." Sam repeated. "Everything is fine."

They sat there for a while until the tears had dried and Dean slowly broke out of Sam's hold. Sam let him sit up straighter and had a look at him. He wasn't pale anymore and his red rimmed eyes were bright as if there actually was somebody there.

"How about a quick shower and then we turn in?" Sam suggested. "You'll feel better in the morning."

And if he was honest, he was beat as well. However, he wasn't sure if he could sleep. Maybe he should keep an eye on Dean, at least for a while.

Dean nodded to that but avoided his eyes and when they lay in bed not long after that Dean lay on his back stiff like a board. Sam had brought him the painkillers he'd left downstairs and Dean had taken them without protest, they should kick in soon. At least he hoped so. He wasn't so sure if it was a good idea to mix painkillers with the alcohol still in Dean's system but in the end he couldn't stand the harsh lines of pain on Dean's face.

"I'm sorry." Dean suddenly broke the silence. "I froze. That fight was all my fault."

"They were looking for a fight." Sam shrugged it off. "And you dealt out a few good punches."

"It was just like then." Dean said into the darkness and Sam held his breath. "He called us faggots as well."

"Who?" Sam dared to ask when Dean didn't continue.

"My dad."


	30. Chapter 30

Dean lay in bed next to Sam. His mind was still a swirling mess but he wasn't as drunk as he'd like to be anymore. At least his face didn't hurt that much but his chest was still tight and every breath he took he had to force down into his lungs. Now and then blurred together and he wasn't exactly sure what had happened today and what so many years ago. All he knew was that this guy had called him a faggot and that he'd been right in his face and Dean had seen the anger and maybe a hint of insanity flickering in his eyes. Or had that been his dad? He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt tired. Wrung out and tired.

Sam lay next to him equally silent and unmoving and probably bursting with questions but Dean couldn't hold on to his own thoughts right now so he didn't care what was going on in the other man's mind.

"It was just like then." The words broke free, he couldn't hold them back even if he'd wanted to. And for some reason he didn't want to hold them back anymore. He wanted to tell Sam, he wanted Sam to know. He needed Sam to know. "He'd called us faggots as well."

After a second Sam's soft voice pierced through the darkness of the room, asking the one and only question here: "Who?"

"My dad." Dean answered, eyes fixed on where the ceiling was but in the dark he couldn't make it out. He probably couldn't even make out Sam's silhouette right next to him but he didn't turn his head to find out. It was easier like this. Covered in darkness he could pretend that he was alone, that Sam didn't lay just inches from him, waiting for his next words.

"My dad has never been a good dad." Dean spoke and his chest tightened but he kept going. If he didn't get this out now he might choke on it. "Or even an okay dad. Most of the time he was a drunken dad. He was always quick with his belt or his fist when I wasn't good enough or quick enough or smart enough." He paused. "When I wasn't enough." His voice broke and he blinked against the tears.

Sam didn't say a word, didn't tell him how sorry he was or something crappy like that and Dean appreciated that. He'd heard those meaningless words often enough.

However, Sam did reach over and placed his hand on Dean's chest. Just firm and warm and there. For some reason Dean breathed easier with that.

"When he noticed that I had a crush on a girl, he made fun of me." He continued. "And broke my arm for daydreaming. But at least I wasn't a damn faggot, he said." He paused once again, mind wandering back to Becky Palmer, his summer crush of '93 who he'd never even spoken to because he was such a loser.

"For a while I tried to convince myself that I wasn't looking at boys as well, that I wasn't a damn faggot." The hand on his chest started to rub firm circles into his tight muscles and Dean let out a hitched breath. "Then I met Kyle. I fell head over heels for him. I never thought I'd stand a chance, you know, not that I ever intended to act on that anyway, but one day Kyle sat down next to me during lunch and just started talking." He fell silent, trying to hold on to the good memories.

"What happened then?" Sam asked softly. His voice was a little too even, a little too controlled but Dean didn't want to think about the pity hidden beneath that. Not now.

"Dad was on a business trip and he wasn't supposed to come home for a couple of days so I invited Kyle over. We had pizza and he brought beer." He couldn't help but smile at that memory. "Don't know where he snagged those."

"How old where you?"

"Fifteen." Dean answered. "We made out on the couch. We both hadn't any experience but we were teenagers, we would figure it out. That's how Dad found us, kissing on the couch." He couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "I woke up in the hospital three month later. I missed Kyle's funeral."

Sam drew him closer and Dean clung to him, finally letting it all out. He didn't know how long they stayed like that. Sam let him cry and just held him until there where no tears left.

"Dad was in prison and I was a minor so Bobby took me in." His nose was clogged and his voice ragged but he needed to finish the story. He wouldn't have the courage to start this all over again, he knew that. "He drove me to my appointments with the doctors and the physiotherapists and the psychologists and other -ists." He let his disgust show in his voice so Sam would get his drift. There had been so many doctors and therapists and Dean had hated every single one of them. "Bobby helped me in every way he could. Why he even bothered I've no clue."

"Because he loves you." Sam answered. "I'm sorry for Kyle."

"Me too. I went to see his parents, I've no idea why." He shook his head at that stupidity. What he'd hoped to gain from that he didn't know but back then he'd felt the urge to see them. Maybe because they were the only ones left who knew Kyle. Maybe he needed some kind of closure.

"It didn't go well?" Sam guessed.

"They were furious when they saw me." That had been the last straw. What his father had done, he could live with that, he'd accepted a long time ago that one day his own dad would beat him to death, but from Kyle's parents he'd expected something else. Understanding maybe?

"They yelled at me." His breath hitched, he could barely bring the words out. "It was all my fault, they said. I corrupted their sweet little boy and there was that word again." He was sick of hearing and saying it but by now Sam would know what he was talking about.

"I hope God punishes you with AIDS." He repeated the words Kyle's mom had thrown at him. He could still hear her voice in his mind. "That was the last thing I heard from them."

There, he was done. A sudden tiredness claimed his body but in a good way. Like he'd gotten rid of something he'd carried around for way too long. It had festered deep inside him, slowly killing him, and now it was out in the open. Holding his breath he waited for Sam's reaction.

Sam didn't push him away, didn't say how disgusted he was. Instead he tightened his hold on him. It felt nice. With a sigh Dean drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he felt like shit. His face hurt and now he noticed a few other spots where he'd taken hits. And the last shot of whiskey had probably been that one too many. It wasn't the worst hangover ever but it didn't help to brighten his mood.

With a groan he rolled to his side and faced Sam who was still sleeping. Had he really told Sam everything? Last night Sam had been equally drunk, how would he react when he thought about what Dean had told him in the light of day?

Dean was pretty sure Sam wouldn't bring him back to the Food Market but living together was about to turn really awkward. Dean just wasn't sure if Sam would go with disgust or pity. And which one would be worse.

Letting Sam sleep Dean slipped out of bed and went downstairs for a coffee. He spiked it with a good shot of whiskey, not the healthiest way of dealing but he didn't care. He washed down two more painkillers with that and then he could only wait for Sam to come downstairs.

He thought about going back to work, which wouldn't be hiding in the basement, not really, but he couldn't avoid Sam forever and his head protested at the thought of hammer on metal alone. So he just sat in the kitchen, nursing his coffee, and waited.

"Morning." Sam came in a while later. He was sporting a bad case of bed-hair and was still in his sleepwear. He made bee-line for the coffee maker which was apparently way more interesting than Dean.

"How do you feel?" Sam slumped down in his chair when he had his coffee.

"I'll live." Dean tried to hide his face behind his cup.

"I've some ointment for the cut and something for the bruise." Sam offered, carefully tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. Dean sighed.

"What I told you last night." He started, eyes on the cup in his hand, he just couldn't look Sam in the eye right now. "You didn't have enough to drink to pretend I've never opened my big mouth, didn't you?"

"Dean, I've no words for what happened to you." Sam set his cup aside and put his serious face on. "I've told you before what I see when I look at you. You're a fighter, a surviver, that hasn't changed. Quite the opposite. You're the strongest man I know."

Dean had heard those words before, more often than he cared to count, but hearing them from Sam he maybe started to believe them. Just a little bit.

"The only thing that has changed." Sam continued and Dean stiffened to that. _Here it comes._ "Is that I understand better why you react like you do to certain things."

"You mean why I freak out and have nightmares." Dean summed it up.

"Why you are who you are." Sam corrected. "Thank you for telling me."

After breakfast Dean went over to the couch and switched the TV on. He was still tired and blissfully numb from the painkillers and maybe from everything else as well so he settled for a lazy day on the couch.

Sam got the hint and left him alone most of the time.

When Dean woke up in the evening they ordered in Chinese and it was almost like nothing had changed. However, Dean couldn't help but wonder how this would change their relationship in the long run. Would Sam treat him like he could break any second? Weight every word he said because he feared the wrong one would trigger the next panic attack?

Dean had seen that before. The one time he had told somebody the guy treated him like a raw egg and then left a few month later because he couldn't deal with Dean's shit.

What would happen if Sam decided he couldn't deal with Dean's shit anymore?

"You're thinking too much." Sam startled him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry."

"You know what always helps me when I want to get my head free?" Sam asked and set his take-out box aside. Dean's was still more than half-full and he doubted he could eat more.

"Sex?" Dean put his box on the table as well and leaned back.

Sam pointed his chopsticks at Dean with a grin.

"Your solution to everything is sex." Dean reminded him but thinking about it, it wasn't that bad of an idea. After sleeping most of the day Dean felt well rested and while hanging out with Sam was nice most of the time, today too much unspoken stuff hung between them. It may be a good idea to stop thinking for a while.

"Well, there was this thing about taking my sweet time with your ass." Sam pointed out. "If you still want that."

"Smooth, Sammy, really smooth." Dean shook his head to that. In the end it didn't look like that much had changed after all.


	31. Chapter 31

"Smooth is my middle name." Sam licked his chopsticks clean in a parody of seductive, almost poking his eye out while he was joking around.

"I can see that." Now the smile on Dean's face was real, it reached his eyes and brought out the hints of crowfeet around them. Sam wondered how he would look like in fifty years and he would like to find out. But that wasn't the point here. He let go of that thought and focused on being silly for Dean.

"What is your middle name?" Dean's thoughts had apparently wandered off in a different direction as well. Maybe they should leave the sexy times for another day.

"I don't have one." Sam dropped the chopsticks on the table and came over to sit next to Dean. "Samuel Campbell, that's my full name."

"Samuel?" Dean grinned at him.

"I was named after my grandfather." Sam defended himself. "I go by Sam." He made a point of that. He could live with being Sammy for Dean, where that came from he'd no idea, he didn't even like that nickname, but Samuel? That was a step too far. Just like Moose, but Dean hadn't called him that since they'd been at the bank so he should be safe there.

"I know next to nothing about you."

They'd turned a little so that they were now facing each other and Sam felt the first waves of arousal coming from the other man.

"You can ask me everything." Sam offered and leaned in for a kiss. Just a brush of lips on lips, chaste and innocent.

"Do you have family?" Dean asked. They were so close that Sam felt his breath on his skin.

"No." Sam placed little kisses along Dean's jawline. "My kind doesn't have big families and my parents died a long time ago." He didn't want to think about hunters right now, not while he was this close to Dean and felt his lips ghosting over his throat.

"I'm sorry." Dean mumbled into his skin, his tongue darting out, leaving hot wet marks.

"Let's shower together." Sam suggested. "Get you nice and clean." There was a question hidden in there and he waited for Dean's answer. Dean had said he wanted to try this but that had been before.

"You'll make it good for me?" Dean ask, his insecurity clearly in his voice.

"So good." Sam brought his mouth close to Dean's ear. "But tell me if you want to stop."

He wanted this to be good for Dean and the last thing he wanted was for Dean to feel like he had to go through something he didn't really want just to please Sam or to prove something to himself.

Dean nodded and Sam slipped his hands under Dean's shirt. Getting the hint Dean lifted his arms and a second later the shirt hit the floor somewhere behind the couch. While staying fully clothed himself Sam undressed Dean piece by piece right there on the couch.

"Gorgeous." He had to pause a moment to just drink in the sight in front of him. Smooth skin, lean body, a face like an angel and by now Dean's erection stood proud and leaking. Sam couldn't keep his hands off, he needed to caress this gorgeous body and he had to taste the bead of fluid on the tip of his cock.

Dean just leaned back and let him do whatever he wanted.

"Sammy." A hand found his head but this time Sam had different things in mind. He let go of Dean with a soft plop and set back on his heels.

"Shower." He reminded him.

"You should lose some clothes for that." Dean eyed him from above. Dean was the one stark naked but in this position, kneeling between Dean's legs and with that hungry gaze upon him, Sam was the one feeling vulnerable, exposed. He'd no idea how Dean did this, usually Sam was the one in charge, but he liked it. He loved it.

"Strip." Dean ordered and Sam rose to his feet without hesitation. Earlier with the chopsticks he'd been joking around. Now he wanted to give Dean a show. He kicked off his shoes and took a step back to have more room. He wasn't a stripper, not even a dancer if he was honest, but he knew about seduction. He let his body sway for a moment, finding his rhythm before he reached for the hem of his shirt. This was about timing, going with the rhythm he'd set.

Judging by the waves coming from Dean and of course the way he was stroking himself while his eyes were fixed on Sam, it wasn't too bad. He didn't go for the cheesy porn stuff like waving his shirt over his head, he just dropped the pieces of clothing one by one until he stood there in nothing but his socks and then dropped to his knees to crawl over to Dean in a cat-like manner. He licked along Dean's erection with the flat of his tongue, then up over his stomach and chest until their lips met for a heated kiss.

"I'm naked now." Sam purred in Dean's ear. "Ready for the shower?"

"I could use a cold one right now." Dean groaned out. His eyes were glazed over with lust, pupils blown wide and his breath came in short puffs. Sam grinned at that, he loved how ragged Dean already looked and they hadn't even started yet.

Somehow they made it to the shower. It had been built with at least two people in mind but with room for more, Sam had his priorities, and even two big men like them fit in easily and they still had room to move.

Ignoring their straining erections for now, they took their time to soap each other up and wash their hair. Dean's strong fingers worked the shampoo into his scalp and now Sam was close to purring for real.

They rinsed off and went back to kissing and roaming hands for a moment.

"Turn around." Sam said and guided Dean's hands to the wall. "Stay like this."

Dean threw him a curious glance over his shoulder but didn't move.

"Spread your legs."

"Where's this leading?" Dean asked but obeyed. "Am I getting detained?"

Sam didn't answer and worked up a thick lather of soap between his hands. Making his way down from Dean's shoulders he sank to his knees until his hands found the round globes of Dean's butt. With his legs already spread Sam's thumbs slipped easily in the cleft while he worked the muscles. Above him Dean shifted and let his head fall forward until it rested in the crook of his elbow on the wall.

Sam took his time with kneading and massaging the muscles, his thumbs brushing over Dean's hole from time to time more by accident than anything else. Taking more of the soap he let his middle finger slip in between the globes, slowly moving up and down, before he circled the entrance with the tip of his finger.

"Don't worry, I won't soap you up from the inside." Sam reassured him when he felt Dean stiffen from that. Soap on the inside was not sexy at all, he knew from experience. Dean nodded to that and Sam felt him relax under his fingers.

He tapped the ring of muscles gently and then added just enough pressure to let the tip of his finger slip in. Dean opened up to him willingly.

Placing little kisses on Dean's butt cheek Sam made his way over to where his finger had never stopped patting and tapping Dean's hole. Now he drew his hand back, which Dean commented with a little whine, to gently spread his cheeks farther apart. Nice and clean it lay before him and Sam just leaned in and licked a long line with the flat of his tongue over the entrance.

"What are you doing?" Dean twitched under the new sensation but Sam held him in place with ease and just did it again.

"I'm eating you out." Sam answered and then circled the entrance with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, God." Dean groaned to that and Sam went to work in earnest. In a matter of minutes he had Dean reduced to a writhing mess but to his surprise Dean kept his hands on the wall and didn't even try to reach for his own cock. For once Sam was in control and he was determent to take full advantage of that.

Taking pity on Dean he reached around and closed his hand on Dean's neglected cock but never stopped tongue fucking him from behind.

Seconds later the muscles spasmed around the tip of his tongue and Dean shot white ropes of come over Sam's hand and against the tiles.

"We're definitely going to do that again." Dean announced a little breathless.

"We will." Sam promised and rose to his feet. "But first I want you under me in bed."

Sam hadn't come, he hadn't even touched himself yet, and he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to come buried to the hilt in Dean. He wanted to feel him hot and tight around him. Sam had to squeeze the base of his cock to not come right then from those thoughts alone.

On weak legs Dean made it over to the bed where he dropped and stretched out bonelessly in the middle of it.

"What are you going to do now?" He cracked open one eye to peer at Sam who still stood at the side of the bed.

"I was thinking of opening you up one finger at a time until you beg me to put my dick in there." Sam answered easily and got the lube out of the drawer.

Dean swallowed visibly at that but Sam couldn't figure out if it was because the thought was hot or if this was a sign of discomfort.

"Or we could do something else." He offered and crawled in next to him.

"If what happened in the shower is anything to go by …" His voice drifted off with a dreamy smile. "This is going to be amazing. Let's give it a try."

"Okay, roll over, then."

"Wuff." Dean made but did as he was told.

"Smart ass." Playfully Sam gave his butt a little smack but then helped Dean to get into a comfortable position by placing a pillow under his stomach.

"You can open me up like this." Dean spoke up when Sam nudged his legs apart to have room between them. "But for the fucking part I want to see you."

So much for Sam being in control here. He shook his head and squeezed a good amount of lube on his fingers.

"Just relax." He placed the other hand on Dean's back and leaned in to kiss the nape of his neck before he dipped his fingers into the cleft. "I'll make it good."

Like he'd promised he took his time and worked his finger in slowly.

"Hmm." Dean bucked under his hand but Sam had expected that. "What was that?"

"Looks like I've found your prostate." Sam answered and crocked his finger once again, tapping gently at the swell of the gland.

"Ghnn." Dean buried his face in the pillow and the waves of pleasure washed over Sam.

When he was finally up to three fingers, he kept in mind that Dean hadn't done something like this in a long time and hadn't even enjoyed it when he did it, Dean was reduced to a begging mess just like Sam had promised.

"Shh." Sam brushed another kiss on Dean's neck. "It's okay. It's okay."

He took his fingers out, much to Dean's frustration, and then gently manhandled him to lay on his back. Dean wasn't much help at this point but Sam took that as a good sign.

"You ready?" He positioned himself between Dean's legs, the blunt tip of his by now achingly hard erection nudging at the entrance.

Dean only jerked his head in a nod but that was all the encouragement Sam needed. Slowly he pushed in. Dean threw his head back, jaw slack in a toneless cry.

Neither of them lasted long but with the last shred of self-control Sam managed to push Dean over the edge first. When Dean spasmed under him, muscles clenching tight around Sam's cock buried deep inside him, Sam's own orgasm ripped through him.

Barely conscious Sam dropped next to Dean.

"That was awesome." Dean mumbled and then drifted off to sleep.

"You're welcome." Sam brushed a kiss on his slack lips and then followed him into dreamland.


	32. Chapter 32

Dean still preferred topping over bottoming but, damn, Sam hadn't been lying when he'd promised he'd make it good. Yeah, they could do this again. On occasion.

With the whole weekend being a constant emotional up and down Dean was glad when Monday rolled around and everything went back to normal. Sam left for work in the morning and Dean went downstairs to work on the cars. In the evening they had dinner and watched TV, Sam was once again too tired and too well fed to do anything else, and everything was good.

Then on Wednesday everything changed.

Dean was working on the cars like usual and because it was a rather warm day he'd opened some windows and the garage door. While he painted the current car ventilation was important as well, he didn't want to pass out on fumes or something, and so he'd set up his work place next to the open door where Sam's car usually stood. He just needed to remember to put his stuff away before Sam crashed into it by accident.

Engrossed in his work, the car came around rather nicely and he'd already three more orders in the line, he forgot the can of paint he'd set on the edge of his improvised table, just a board on two stands, and bumped into it with his elbow. It clattered to the ground and started rolling.

Dean realized two things when he spun around to see what happened. One, that this was his last can of metallic red he had and he needed that color to finish this car and two, it was rolling towards the open door.

Cursing Dean dropped the can he had in hand and jumped after the escaping one. He had to reach it before it crossed the invisible line of the spell or he would have to wait for Sam to come home to get it back.

"Gotcha." His fingers closed around the can and a wide grin spread on his face. For a moment he'd been sure he wouldn't catch it before it was out if reach. But when he looked around he realized that his outstretched arm was outside.

"Uh?" He made and stood up slowly. Had Sam given him a few more inches this time? He had no idea how the spell worked in the first place, however, so far the line had always been right on the threshold.

Dean stood right where the line should be, usually he could just lean against thin air here, and carefully stretched out his arm. He expected to hit the wall any second now but he could stretch out his arm all the way without hitting anything solid.

He looked down at his feet. The tips of his boots were just on the line the door had left in the cement which had always indicated the position of the invisible wall as well. Holding his breath Dean lifted his right foot and stepped over the line. And stood outside.

He was glad they didn't have neighbors because for the next few minutes he walked around the property with his arms stretched out in front of him, searching for the wall. It didn't matter in which direction he went, the only border he hit was the concrete fence enclosing the place.

Stunned Dean stood in front of the building, seeing it from the outside felt rather strange. He'd seen it from the car, sure, but standing here? That was something completely different.

Dean turned his back to the building, facing down the driveway. The gate was closed and locked, he knew that, but Sam had a spare set of keys upstairs.

Dean stood there for long minutes, biting his bottom lip, and tried to figure out what to do next. He could escape. He could go upstairs and get the keys or just climb over the fence. He could be out of here in less than a minute.

He did get the keys, though. He walked down the driveway, put the key in the lock and turned it. He opened the gate and stepped through. There was still a bit of driveway left before it connected to the road. Dean walked down that bit as well. A car passed. He didn't try to flag it down.

Hands deep in his pockets Dean took in his surroundings. When he'd been out with Sam he hadn't paid much attention to the neighborhood. Industrial buildings with empty places in between. Weed had cracked the asphalt and at least half of the buildings he saw were abandoned. The fence around Sam's place was covered with graffiti like everything else around here.

Dean turned to his left. Now he had the city in his back. This way would bring him out of town. It wasn't even noon. Sam wouldn't notice that he was gone for hours. More than enough time to get away. Call Bobby to warn him that there might be somebody coming for him. However, he doubted Sam would do that. Sure, Dean had given him Bobby's name and address for insurance but he just couldn't picture Sam hurting his friend because Dean escaped. He couldn't picture Sam hurting anybody, period.

Dean walked down to the corner of Sam's property. The next building was long abandoned, empty windows stared down on him.

"Fuck it." With that Dean turned around and walked back. He locked the gate and placed the keys where he'd found them. Then he went back to work. The car was due tomorrow, he'd promised the customer to get it in the mail on Thursday so he'd have it before the weekend.

Dean could think best with his hands busy and he had a lot to think about now. Had Sam lifted the spell on purpose? Was this a test? A trap? But wouldn't it make more sense if Sam would have let him know that the spell was gone? Dean had found out by accident. If it hadn't been for his clumsiness he might have never found out that he could leave.

No, this didn't feel like something Sam had set up. This felt more like Sam had forgotten to craft the spell.

They had been out to the bar on Saturday. Dean wasn't sure about the details of when and how they'd made it home but he was pretty sure that Sam had never left his side. He'd cleaned him up in the kitchen, then they went upstairs and turned in. Then Dean had started talking.

On Sunday Dean had slept most of the time so Sam had plenty of time to set the spell but he usually did that the second they came home. So he wouldn't think of it later.

"He forgot." Dean had to step back from his work and let that realization sink in. With everything that had happened on Saturday he'd simply forgotten to set up the spell. Which meant Sam didn't know. Sam still thought that Dean was safely locked away. This was not a test or a trap.

Dean had no intention to leave, though. Where should he go anyway? The only place coming to mind was Bobby's and that would be the first place Sam would come looking for him. And Bobby would be on the run as well thanks to Dean.

If he was honest, Dean liked living with Sam. Over the last few weeks something had grown between them and Dean didn't want to lose that.

However, now he knew that he could leave if he wanted to and that changed a lot. The thought alone that it was his decision if he stayed or left made him feel like he could do everything.

"You're in a good mood today." Sam observed over dinner.

"Finished the car." Dean said and it wasn't even a lie. "Could you bring it to the post office an your way tomorrow?"

The whole evening Dean didn't mention the spell and neither did Sam. Why would he? Sam thought it was still in place and neither of them liked to be reminded of Dean's situation so they rarely talked about it.

As soon as Sam had left the next morning Dean had to test it again. He half expected to run right into the wall but like the day before it wasn't there. Dean had a closer look around the building. Concrete and asphalt with patches of dry grass between them and weed sprouting in every crack. The building itself looked well cared for but the rest was a mess. People had dumped their garbage in the back and left-overs from the old fabric lay around everywhere. Sam didn't seem to care and with the fence now in place it wasn't likely that more got dumped here but Dean could only shake his head at this. His fingers itched to get at least some of the garbage in the front out of sight but he couldn't do that. Sam would see it and then he would know. This was Dean's little secret and he intended to keep it for as long as possible.

And there was still some work waiting for him.

He worked on the cars as usual and let his mind drift. During the week Sam was out all day. He wouldn't notice if Dean was gone for a few hours. The things he could do now ...

Humming to himself he thought about going into town. He could hitch a ride or something. The first customers had paid but Sam had refused to take some of the money back just yet so he had some in his account. He could buy himself a phone. Maybe even a cheap laptop. He could have a burger in a diner or just sit in park for a while.

But what if Sam came home early? That thought was what kept him from walking right out of the door. What happened if Sam came home early and he wasn't there?

"I could leave him a note." Dean mused. He could write that he went out but would be back. He'd love to see Sam's face when he read that note. Dean chuckled to himself and reached for the hammer. The curve wasn't just right yet.

Dean didn't go out that day and he didn't the next. And with that it was Saturday and Sam was home the whole weekend so it was out of option. For a brief second Dean thought about sneaking out in the morning while Sam was still sleeping and taking his car for a quick ride. It would feel good to be behind the wheel again, though. It would feel even better if he would be behind the wheel of his own car but that was completely out of option.

He liked thinking about it, playing around with the what-ifs and imagine-thats but in the end he didn't go for a ride. He just went for a shower and had coffee ready when Sam came downstairs like usual. After the disaster of their last trip neither of them suggested to go out this weekend and they spent two days with poker, pool and hanging out on the internet. By now Dean was used to Sam sitting next to him while he surfed the internet but the fact that he was allowed to surf the internet was a small victory on its own.

Days after he'd discovered that the spell was missing it occurred to him that the other effects had to be gone as well. Not that he intended to hurt himself or Sam but he could if he wanted to. He could do whatever he wanted and that coaxed a smile on his lips.

However, Sam would notice that the spell wasn't in place eventually so if he wanted to do something with it, he had to do it soon.


	33. Chapter 33

Sam had known that Dean had a traumatic past, that was quite obvious, and he felt honored that Dean trusted him enough to share his story with him. There were quite some details Dean had left out, how severe his injuries had been for example, three month in a coma didn't say anything about the condition he'd been in afterwards, however, it was enough to get the picture. Which left Sam with the question of how to deal with this. He tried to act normal, as if nothing had changed, but he couldn't stop thinking that he should do more or act differently now. And at the same time he was pretty sure that that was the last thing Dean wanted.

"You're daydreaming again." Ellen startled him out of his thoughts. She stood in the door, a file in hand but it seemed forgotten for the moment. She had a critical eye on Sam. "What's up with you lately? Trouble in paradise?"

She came in and closed the door half-way, there was no need for the whole office to hear, Sam guessed and appreciated the gesture.

"No, everything is fine in paradise." He reassured her. "It's just ..." He didn't know how to say what was on his mind without spilling Dean's story.

"Hey, you know, you can talk to me, right?"

Sam let out a little laugh, those were the words he'd told Dean more than once. And now that he had finally talked Sam didn't know what to do with it.

Ellen sat down in the chair in front of his desk and the file landed on the pile of things he still had to do today but his head wasn't in the game.

"Somebody told my about his past." He put it as vaguely as possible but Ellen's first guess would be Dean, he couldn't prevent that.

"Okay?"

"A not so happy past." He added. "And now I don't know how to deal with that, how I should act around him. It was a big deal that he told me in the first place and I don't want to screw this up."

She thought about that for a moment.

"Was he okay with the way you dealt with him before he told you?" She asked.

"Yeah, we were good." And it was true. Things between him and Dean had been good. Since Dean slept in his bed there hadn't been any nightmares, not even after the bar incident and the big talk afterwards. They joked around and knew how to take the other one. They had been good.

"Then why do you want to change that?" She asked. "Look, he hasn't changed. Whatever happened to him, it happened before he told you. That hasn't changed. You are the one who's changed. Now that you know, you are different."

Sam just stared at her for a long moment. She was right. Dean wasn't different now to what he had been last week.

"Thanks, Ellen."

"And now get back to work." She got up and tapped on the file. "I need this by Friday."

"Yes, ma'am."

That day he didn't get much work done, his mind was on Dean. He hadn't done it before, he respected Dean's privacy, but now he opened Google and typed "Dean Winchester".

There were hits. John Winchester came up in almost every entry as well.

Unsure if he should click on the link he let the cursor hover over the first one in the list but then he clicked. He wanted to know more. He didn't want to dig too deep but Dean had told him quite a bit and he was just filling in some of the blanks.

It had made quite some news back then. Apparently John Winchester had beaten up his son and his friend Kyle with an iron poker. Kyle had died before the paramedics arrived and Dean had been brought to the hospital in a critical state. There were pictures of the house, with yellow police tape around it, and ambulance and police cars in front. According to the article Dean had barely made it. They had to put him in a coma and they hadn't been sure if he'd ever wake up again.

There was more but Sam closed the window and sat back in his chair, he didn't want to know more. John was in prison and Dean had pulled through, that was what counted. Expect for the fact that John was about to get out.

_Maybe I should offer to let the community take care of him_ , Sam mused. _Give Dean a real closure._

He knew who to call to let a human disappear, no problem. But somehow he doubted that was what Dean wanted.

"He recovered from that only to get captured by a pack of werewolves." Sam could only shake his head to that unfairness of life. Okay, otherwise he and Dean would have never met so there was something good in this but it was still unfair.

Sam went back to work but he couldn't focus on that. His mind rotated around John Winchester.

"And they call me a monster." He shook his head. How could a father do this to his son? How could you take an iron poker and just beat somebody to death? Sam knew supernatural creatures who had to kill to live. He knew creatures who fed on other things. He himself was one of them but there were worse. Things that fed on fear and pain, things that needed their prey to suffer but that was nothing compared to what John Winchester had done. Those creatures needed something, John had done it because he'd been angry.

Sam took Ellen's advice to heart and with that in mind, everything became easier. He was still well fed from their sex session on the weekend so he didn't want to do much more than to collapse on the couch after dinner and Dean usually joined him for some mindless TV before they turned in.

The cars were coming along quite nicely and Sam didn't mind that he was the one who had to hit the post office on his way to work to get them on their way. The website got filled with more pictures and Sam had always a stack of business cards in his pocket which he handed out to almost everybody. He wanted this to be a success. Dean deserved it.

On the weekend Sam noticed that Dean was ... different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was clearly off. Maybe it was because during the week they hadn't seen each other that often, only for a few hours in the evening and shortly in the morning for breakfast but over the weekend they were together almost 24/7. Dean was itchy and Sam did his best to act like everything was normal. They played some poker and pool and for a couple of hours Dean escaped into the basement to work on his cars.

However, Sam couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. He had no idea what that could be but the feeling was there.

On Monday morning Dean acted even weirder. He burned the pancakes and knocked over his cup of coffee and Sam was lucky that the hot liquid didn't boil his balls.

"Shit." Dean was at his side with a towel a second later but the coffee had already soaked through the fabric. Franticly Sam tried to get out of his pants while the coffee was scalding the inner side of his thigh.

"Here, this should help." While Sam had been busy with his pants Dean had wrapped some ice cubes in the towel and pressed it now gently on the angry red skin. Sighing in relief Sam dropped back in his chair, wet pants dangling around his ankles.

"You know." Sam said at the sight of Dean taking care of him like this. "If you want me out of my pants you could just tell me."

Dean threw him a dirty look but the lines of worry on his face softened at Sam's words. They stayed like this for a while until the pain was almost gone and the skin didn't feel hot anymore. If he was honest, the cold was almost uncomfortable by now. Not to mention the melted ice dripping down his leg.

"I should get a fresh pair of pants." Sam said and took the makeshift ice pack out of Dean's hand.

But Dean didn't let him get up and ran a hand along the spot on his leg instead as if he needed to make sure that there was no real damage done. It was still red but now cold and wet from the ice. And Dean's hand came very close to his groin.

"I'm sorry." Dean said, hand resting there with the tips of his fingers just barely touching the hem of his underwear. There were waves of arousal coming from Dean and Sam didn't move, waiting what Dean would do. His briefs couldn't hide his sparking interest, though. Dean's hand was so close to him, Dean was so close, Sam barely dared to breathe while Dean made up his mind.

Eyes fixed on Sam's crotch Dean took the towel with the ice back and picked out one ice cube.

Sam swallowed and spread his legs wider to give Dean better access. Getting the hint Dean slipped off his chair and knelt down between Sam's legs.

"Looks like you need to cool down here as well." Dean pressed down the ice right on the head of his cock.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath when with a second of delay the cold seeped through the cotton of his underwear. And then it was replaced by Dean's hot mouth.

First through his underwear, then on his bare skin Dean worked him with the heat of his mouth and the cold of the ice. Both never stopped moving and Sam never knew where the cold would trail off next to. He just buried his fingers in Dean's thick hair and let him torture him with the ice and his mouth.

With Dean sucking the tip of his cock and the ice circling his balls Sam came hard only minutes later.

"Damn." He slumped back in his chair while Dean rose to his feet and dumped the ice in the sink.

Dean did nothing to hide his own erection and so far he hadn't gotten anything out of this. However, when Sam reached for him Dean shook his head.

"You're getting late for work." He observed with a pointed look at the clock. "You should get some dry pants and then get going."

"You sure?" It didn't feel right to leave Dean hanging like this.

"Don't worry." Dean smirked at him. "I've a surprise planned for when you get home."

"A surprise?" Sam perked up to that but Dean just smacked the towel at him to get him moving.

Sam had no idea what Dean had in mind but so far he had liked what the other man had come up with.

So he came home that day with rising anticipation and an already half-hard cock.

"Dean?" He yelled into the basement when he got out of the car. "I'm home."

There was no answer so Dean was probably upstairs. Maybe preparing whatever he had in mind. Sam had some nice pictures in his mind as well while he rode the elevator upstairs but when the doors opened, the loft was dark and empty.

"Dean?" Sam asked again without getting an answer.

_Not again_ , he thought and reached for the light switch. The couch was empty and no bottle in sight. So that was good? Sam made his way up the stairs and had a look first in his room, then in Dean's. Dean wasn't there. He wasn't in one of the bathrooms either.

"What the hell?" An uneasy feeling settled deep in his stomach. From the balustrade he had a good view over the living room and the kitchen, still no Dean in sight, but there was something on the kitchen table. Sam sprinted down the stairs and found a note.

_You forgot the spell._

_Meet me at the diner where we had the pie at 6:30 for dinner._

_My treat._

_D._


	34. Chapter 34

The whole weekend Dean had been debating with himself what to do. He'd come up with a lot of ideas but in the end he wasn't sure.

He should just pack his stuff and leave, he knew that. It was the right thing to do but it was the last thing he wanted to do. But there was so much other stuff he did want to do. Just because he could.

Then, out of the blue, he'd promised Sam a surprise for the evening and with that it was settled.

This was going to be one hell of a surprise.

Dean watched Sam leaving until the gate closed behind the car and then he waited for half an hour just to make sure he wouldn't come back for some reason. The note was written quickly and then Dean was outside. It would be quite a walk into town but he didn't care and if he was lucky he could hitch a ride. He could always say that his car broke down and ask if he could get a ride to the nearest gas station.

In the end exactly that happened. A pick-up truck came to a halt next to him, he didn't even have to try to flag it down, and the driver believed his story without a second thought and with that Dean was in town.

His first stop was the next ATM to get some cash. With his card in his pocket he didn't really need cash but it was a good feeling to have some.

Then he went shopping in the mall. For the most part he browsed the stores and enjoyed just being outside and with people again. He had a coffee and for a while he just sat there and watched the people passing by, wondering what their life might look like. And if they were human or not. There were probably quite some monsters hidden in the crowd but for now Dean didn't want to think about that. He finished his coffee and then let himself drift with the crowd. There was a shop with knives where he spent almost an hours looking at things and he had quite a nice little chat with the owner. He almost bought a hunting knife but in the end he didn't. Mainly because he didn't have an explanation for why he wanted it and he didn't want to worry Sam. If Dean came home with a big ass knife Sam would get all the wrong ideas and probably lock himself into his room over the night. And for sure he would set up the spell again.

On a whim he entered an art supply store, he'd never thought he would ever set a foot in one of those, and had a look at some airbrush pistols. The girl behind the counter looked barely old enough to be in the mall on her own but she knew her way around the stuff she was selling and in the end Dean left the store with a full bag. The next car would look awesome.

For lunch he left the mall and went to a nearby park. It was late in the year but the weather was nice and it was still warm enough to sit outside. He bought a hot dog and relaxed on a bench for a while. Joggers and people with dogs passed by, children were playing on the playground and Dean just enjoyed watching them. He wondered where Sam would spent his lunch break. It would be hilarious if they met like this in the park but Dean didn't even know if Sam worked in this part of the city or somewhere else. It had never came up before. Like so much else. Maybe he should start asking some questions. The last time he'd tried Sam had shut him up with sex but in the right moment he should try again. If Sam survived this day, that is.

"Hope I don't cause him a heart attack." Dean said to himself and couldn't hide a grin. He still had a few hours to kill before his date with Sam, it wasn't a date but yeah ..., so he went back to the mall. He got himself some pie for dessert and bought a few magazines and two books. He'd never bothered with books before but cooped up in Sam's loft for weeks with nothing else to do than to read or watch TV he had developed a taste for them. Okay, now he was busy with his cars most of the time but it was always good to have a backup plan.

He browsed through clothing stores just because they were there and when he found a hardware store he let himself get lost in there. When it was time to head for the diner Dean carried around four heavy bags and the wides grin ever.

He was at the diner early but he was a little surprised that Sam wasn't already waiting for him.

_Maybe he dropped dead when he read the note_ , Dean guessed but wasn't that worried. Incubi were hard to kill, Sam had said so and now he could prove it.

While he waited Dean ordered a coffee and flipped through one of his new magazines. But he couldn't really focus on what he was reading. He kept one eye on the door, waiting for Sam.

It was almost 6:30 when the door opened and a tall figure with shaggy hair stepped in. Dean sat up straighter so Sam could find him more easily.

"Dean." Sam said under his breath and dropped down in the chair across from Dean.

"You made it." Dean greeted him cheerfully. "Great."

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, still with that pressed voice and a haunted look around the diner.

"Relax." Dean tried to reassure him. "I went to the mall, sat in the park, normal stuff. Things normal people do." He grinned at him. "Besides, this is all your fault, you forgot the spell."

At that Sam glared at him but he relaxed a bit. The waitress came over with the menus and for a second Dean wasn't sure if Sam wouldn't just call this off and drag him back home. But then he ordered a coke for himself and accepted the menu.

"When you said you had a surprise for me, I didn't expect this." Sam grumbled but couldn't keep the corners of his mouth down.

"You were surprised, weren't you?" Dean shot back, quite pleased with himself.

Sam just glared at him but before either of them could say something the waitress was back with Sam's coke and ready to take their orders.

"Your treat?" Sam glanced at him and Dean nodded, grin still firmly in place. He would get sore muscles from all the grinning today but he couldn't help it.

When the waitress left with their order Dean leaned back in his seat.

"So I forgot the spell." Sam mirrored his position.

"You forgot the spell."

"When did you find out?"

"Last week." Dean answered. "Wednesday." It hadn't even been a week.

"Why are you still here?" Sam asked, he kept his voice carefully neutral.

"When I noticed the spell wasn't there anymore, I went outside." Dean said. "I got the keys and went down to the street and then up to the corner. I was thinking of just keep on walking."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know." Dean shrugged because he really didn't know. "Guess I like living with you."

Sam nodded to that and for a moment they both looked everywhere but the other one.

"I like living with you, too." Sam said after a moment.

"You like the good meals and the awesome sex." Dean stated but he knew that wasn't true. At least not the entire truth.

"And you stayed only because of the awesome sex." Sam countered.

"Guilty."

Their meals arrived and for a while they ate in silence.

"What are you going to do now?" Dean asked. He'd finished his burger and was now nibbling on the last few fries. "With the spell I mean."

"Dunno." Sam admitted. "It's rather pointless now, isn't it?"

"You're the boss, it's your decision."

Hurt flashed over Sam's face and Dean regretted his words immediately.

"You knew you could just leave for almost a week and you stayed." Sam finally answered. "If you ever change your mind would you talk to me first?"

Dean thought about that. It meant he would give Sam the chance to hold him back, with force if necessary, if he didn't want to let him go.

"If I ever want to leave I'll tell you." He promised.

"Thank you." Sam's smile was warm and natural. "How about some pie for dessert?"

"Sure you're not a mind reader?" Dean teased and conveniently forgot to mention that he already had pie for lunch. But he felt like celebrating and if he wanted pie twice a day he would have pie twice a day. He'd gone hungry too often in his life.

"I have my secrets." Sam answered and flagged the waitress down to order their pie.

When they were alone again Sam leaned in and lowered his voice to make sure only Dean could hear him.

"You know, I still owe you a blowjob." Sam reminded him. Had that been this morning? It seemed ages ago. "So when we get home, I'm going to suck your brains out."

"Hmm." Dean made. "I'd like that."

"One the other hand." Sam dropped back in his chair. "I should spank your sorry ass for pulling this stunt today."

"You're a kinky bastard, you know that, right?" Dean liked his kinks now and then but spanking wasn't something he was into so he was pretty sure Sam would settle for the blowjob instead. At least he hoped so.

They had their pie and then Dean paid for their meal. It was dark when they left the diner and headed for Sam's car.

"What the hell is all this stuff?" Sam blurted out when he saw the bags Dean was carrying.

"I had some time to kill." Dean defended himself and most of the stuff was for his business anyway. God, sounded that snobby.

"How did you get into town?"

"Walked for a bit and caught a ride for the rest."

"You're impossible." Sam shook his head.

Back home Dean put away the stuff he'd bought and then went upstairs to see if Sam would carry through with the promised blowjob. It would just be the perfect ending for a perfect day.

He found Sam on the couch with the TV on.

"Wow, that's romantic." Dean sat down next to him. "What's on?"

"Some cop show."

They sat in silence and watched the TV cops stumble around a crime scene.

"Are you mad?" Dean asked.

"No." He sighed. "I've just no clue what this thing between us is." He admitted and switched the TV off. "I know how this started, with clear roles and rules to follow, but that lasted how long? A day? And what we have now ..." He trailed off.

"Remember in that bar before everything went sideways?" Dean asked. "When I called you my boyfriend?"

"Yeah?"

"I meant that." Dean wasn't sure if he would ever say the big three words but he had feelings for Sam. Strong feelings. And if he wasn't completely wrong here, Sam felt the same.

Sam didn't answer but Dean hadn't expected him to declare his love to him. Instead Sam looked him in the eye and then angled his head to bring their mouths together. Dean parted his lips to let him in.

"We're so fucked up, you know that?" Sam broke the kiss and studied his face.

"Yep." Dean made, popping the word. "But you've just dosed me up with your spit stuff and you've promised me a blowjob so let's just not think about that right now and focus on the important questions in life."

"Which are?" Sam raised an eyebrow to that.

"Do you want to go to your knees here or in the bedroom?"


	35. Chapter 35

The next morning Sam hesitated when it was time to leave for work.

"You can set up the spell if that makes you feel better." Dean offered, of course he'd noticed and of course he knew exactly why Sam was just fiddling with his keys instead of leaving already.

"No." Sam said harsher than he'd intended to. "No." He repeated softer. "I trust you." He brushed a peck on Dean's cheek and with that he forced himself to finally leave.

On his way to work he had time to think and now it occurred to him that he still had no way to check in with Dean over the day. He had his phone and laptop with him as usual but now that seemed rather pointless. If Dean wanted to contact somebody, he could do that now. Or he could just walk out of the door and leave for good.

Dean hadn't mentioned Bobby but Sam knew him well enough by now to know that the thought that his friend would be in danger if he left had at least crossed Dean's mind. Sam made a mental note to assure Dean that whatever he did, it wouldn't have any consequences for Bobby.

A shiver ran down his spine thinking of the night they went to the bar. Out of fear for his friend Dean had tried to hold his end of the deal, no matter what condition he had been in. Yeah, Sam should probably clear that point up.

In the office Sam threw himself into work but the thoughts were persistent, no matter how hard he pushed them away they always came back. Last night Dean had come as close as he might ever come to telling Sam that he loved him. And if he was honest, Sam felt the same. However, this was not right, not like this, he was painfully aware of that.

The way Dean had offered to accept the spell again, the way he'd said "You're the boss." yesterday in the diner ... Sam shook his head. They weren't equal in this. And how could he be sure the feelings on Dean's part were true? Maybe this was some mindfuckery Stockholm syndrome stuff.

No, the way it was now they could never become equal partners in this. But hell if he knew how to solve that problem.

Ellen would have an open ear for him but she was human and he couldn't edit his story and still expect her to come up with a good answer when she was missing out on huge pieces.

_You know, I've never told you but I'm an incubus and I bought this human on the Food Market ..._ He chuckled to that thought. Yeah, she would totally believe him.

However, talking to somebody might be a good idea, he decided and reached for his phone.

"Benny?" He asked when the vampire picked up. "What are your plans for lunch?"

They met in a donut shop near the police station, the irony wasn't lost to Sam, but Sam could use some caffeine and sugar.

"So you forgot to lock the cage." Benny summed up the situation. "And your little pet went out for a stroll."

"He's not my pet." Sam sighted and sipped at his coffee. "That's the problem."

"He didn't run and he didn't try to kill you." Benny pointed out. "Sounds like a happily ever after to me."

"I can still set up the spell any time I please and I have bought him, that's still on his mind."

"What do your want?" Benny asked. He ignored the donuts but nursed his coffee, more to blend in than anything else, Sam guessed and reached for another donut. He could bring the rest of the box back to Dean.

"I don't know." Sam shook his head. "That we're equal in this, that he doesn't have to fear that I'll just send him back to the Food Market or hurt his friend if he doesn't behave."

"You know, there's this vampire saying." Benny said and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Is this some Confucius says shit?" He asked but the vampire ignored him.

"If you love something, let it go ..."

"I've heard that one before." He had and it probably was the only way out of this situation. It was just that he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

"... if it doesn't return, hunt it down and kill it." Benny ended the saying with a too toothy smile. "But you're not a vampire so you could leave out the last part."

Sam just stared at him for a moment. "You're impossible."

"You asked for my advice." Benny shrugged. "But I'm not sure what the others will think of a human running wild with too much information."

"He's not just a human." Now it was Sam's turn for a smug grin. "He's an associate. Confirmed by Crowley."

"How did you do that?" Benny narrowed his eyes on him. "You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"With Crowley?" Sam shuddered. "I'm not that desperate. I did him a favor a while back and you know him, a salesman to the bone."

"So your little pet is an associate. Smart."

They finished their coffees and then they had to go back to work. However, their little talk had helped Sam coming to a decision. It was time to take a leap of faith.

When he came home he had a moment of doubt. Would Dean be there?

But when the car rolled into the garage Dean was right there, working on one of the cars with the air brush pistol.

"It's coming around nicely." Sam observed when he stepped closer. Dean turned around at his words, a warm smile on his lips, and greeted him with a kiss.

Each car looked different, however, Dean made sure that the scrap touch as he called it stayed obvious. That was the special thing about his cars, what made them different from all the generic crap out there and Sam couldn't be prouder. And he still wanted to strangle John Winchester for almost crushing his son's talent and feeling of self-worth.

"I brought donuts for dessert." Sam remembered and got the box out of the car.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Dean asked and put away his tools, looked like he was done for the day.

"Nothing, I just had lunch with Benny and when you've lunch with a cop, you have donuts." They headed for the elevator. "Benny didn't eat his share."

"I wonder why."

Dean had dinner ready, stew that had to simmer on the stove for hours so he could work in the basement without constantly running upstairs to stir it, and after that they had their donuts. Well fed they dropped on the couch.

Sam would have loved to just stay there with some mindless TV before they went to bed but he wanted to set some things right. And he wanted to do it now before he lost his courage.

"Dean, there are some thing we need to talk about." Sam finally said and the way Dean stiffened at those words was just more proof to the fact that they did need to talk.

"Okay?" He tried to say it casually.

"First of all, the spell."

"Sure, I get that." He said, his voice even but his eyes betrayed him. "You have to make sure."

Sam fished a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Dean.

"What's that?" He unfolded it, a confused look on his face when he mouthed the Latin words.

"That's how you break the spell." Sam explained. "These words spoken inside the perimeter of the spell and it's gone."

"What?" Dean stared at him in clear disbelieve. "Why?"

Why, that was the big question. Sam sat up straighter and turned a little to fully face Dean.

_Here goes nothing_ , he thought.

"Dean, I love you." There, the words were out. "And I want us in a relationship. A real relationship." He paused, unsure how to say the next part without giving Dean the impression that he wanted to push him away.

"I want that, too." Dean answered, taking away one of Sam's biggest fears. What if Dean didn't want the same here? That question had been on his mind all day. But it looked like he'd been worried for no reason at all.

"But we can't have it like this." Sam continued. "We can't be equal partners as long as I hold your life in my hands."

Dean was silent to that, eyes on the piece of paper in his hand.

"The spell is one thing." Sam continued. "But that's not enough."

"What do you mean?"

"You need to leave." Sam said and raised his hand to cut off the protest already on Dean's lips. "Hear me out." He said just like Dean used to when he came up with one of his ideas.

"I love you and I want to be with you." He repeated it because he needed Dean to understand that part. "But we have to break out of this situation. So I want you to pack your stuff, pack the cars and leave. It doesn't have to be now but soon. Go to Bobby or wherever you want. Think about this, about us. Figure out your feelings. I don't want to see or hear from your for at least two weeks. Longer if you need that, take all the time you want. If you don't want to come back, you don't. You don't have to explain it to me or anything. If that's your decision, it's your decision and I will accept it. But if you do want to come back, you know where to find me. I'll be waiting for you."

Dean hadn't interrupted his little speech and now they just sat there in silence while Dean let the words think in.

"That sounds way to healthy for us." Dean finally broke the moment with an awkward laugh. "But you're probably right." He rubbed the back of his head and didn't look Sam in the eye.

"I am?" He sat back in astonishment. "That was easy. I expected more of a fight."

"C'mon, I'm not stupid." Dean shot back. "I know how fucked up this whole thing is." He said it easily but Sam wasn't sure if that wasn't just on the surface.

"You got the part where I said that I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

"Good." Sam hoped that was enough. The last thing he wanted for Dean was for him to feel rejected. "We'll rent you a car until you have your baby back." Sam offered, fully aware of the fact that one of the first things Dean would do as a free man was to get his car.

"Baby." Now his face lit up. "Hope Bobby took good care of her."

"You'll find out soon." Sam promised and made a mental note to push this along. Dean should leave soon. With his online shop it didn't matter where Dean worked on his cars so this wouldn't screw up his blooming business and maybe he would find new material in Bobby's salvage yard.

"What should I tell Bobby?" Dean asked and the real question he was asking was what he was allowed to tell. Sam suppressed a sigh, this was the reason why they needed to do this.

"That's up to you. You can sic a bunch of hunters on my ass if you want." It was a possibility. Sam had mentioned hunters often enough for Dean to know about them as well. But that was a risk Sam had to take.

"And the community would just let me go?"

"You're officially an associate." Sam grinned at him. "As that you can wander around or leave the city without them bothering you."

"Sweet."

Before this could turn into an awkward silence Sam switched on the TV but he couldn't focus on what was happening on the screen, thoughts were running circles in his head and he doubted it was any different for Dean.

"But before I leave." Dean finally spoke up. "We'll get you fed for real. Don't want you to starve while I'm gone."


	36. Chapter 36

Dean knew it was the right thing to do. Take a break, get his head clear, untangle this mess without Sam constantly looming in the background. It was the right thing to do, the healthy thing, but base line, he didn't want to leave.

Sam had said he'd wait for him, that he wanted him back but once he was gone what made Sam so sure he wouldn't change his mind? What if Dean came back and Sam didn't want him here anymore? What if this was just a sugarcoated kick-out because Sam was sure that Dean wouldn't come back anyway?

Those questions were eating at him while he packed his stuff the next day. He hadn't really slept much but he wasn't tired. He was itching with energy but he couldn't focus on anything for longer than a minute. He had written an email to Bobby, telling him that he would swing by and if he could stay for a while. At least Bobby seemed to be happy about that turn of events.

Which brought him to his next problem. Bobby knew there were things Dean hadn't told him. He'd stopped asking for the most part but things would be different with Dean staying under his roof. Bobby would have questions and Dean had no idea what to tell him.

Dean stayed for another day, officially to finish the latest car but if he was honest, he was stalling. But the longer he waited the harder it would become to leave, he knew that.

It was their last night together for a while, Dean had silently vowed to himself that he would be back in exact two weeks and he could only hope that Sam would open his door to him again, and Dean wanted their last hours together to be memorable.

It was a Friday so Sam had to work but that gave Dean time to set everything up. When Sam came home the table was set with Sam's good silverware and the crystal glasses. There was wine waiting for them and music playing in the background.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic." Sam said when he saw what Dean had prepared.

"This is our last night for a while." Dean filled their glasses. "I want you to keep me in good memory."

"As if I could forget you." Sam accepted the glass and they raised them in a silent toast. "As for the for a while part, that's entirely up to you. I'm here."

They had dinner, Dean had stood the whole day in the kitchen to prepare the three dishes, and after that they set on the couch with their wine glasses and just talked. Sam told him about his day at work and then the conversation drifted to all and nothing. Later Dean couldn't even remember what they were talking about. Just the soft tone of Sam's voice, the music in the background and the taste of the wine on his tongue.

"I want to kiss you." Dean said.

"I'd like that."

They kissed and then they went upstairs.

In the morning Dean woke late, body comfortably heavy from the sex and Sam feeding on him. By now the tiredness wasn't that bad anymore but today he felt like after the first time Sam had fed off him.

"You took a big chunk last night." Dean rolled to his side to face Sam. "But that should keep you fed until I'm back. I don't like the thought of you feeding on somebody else."

"Jealous?" Sam asked and brushed a kiss on Dean's lips. Sam kept his lips closed so Dean didn't get a fresh dose of his saliva, after last night they were both not up for more.

"You bet." Dean grinned. "You're ass is mine."

"You made that very clear last night. I'll have to work standing for a week." Sam groaned and stole another kiss.

"Just making sure you'll think of me when you're here all alone."

They got out of bed before this could become awkward and had breakfast together.

"I got you a phone." Sam handed him a shiny new phone and Dean didn't want to think about how expensive it was. "My number is in there. And Benny's. You can delete them if you don't need them anymore."

"Sam, do you want me to come back or not?" Dean ask bluntly. Sam tried to not force him into a decision, he got that, but every time he said something like this the mean little voice in his mind wondered if Sam really wanted him to come back.

"I want you." Sam said firmly.

With that in mind Dean left.

It was a two days trip to Bobby's but he enjoyed being on the road again. Before ... before all this he had been a drifter. The time he'd spent with Sam had been the longest he'd been in one place since he had left Bobby's the day he had turned eighteen. It felt good to have the road ahead, just seeing what would come up at the horizon next.

He'd told Bobby "in a couple of days" so there was no need to hurry. He had enough money for gas and food and it was more than enough for a good motel for the night. It was nice to not worry about money for once.

It was already dark when he drove through the gate of Singer's Salvage Yard at the end of the second day. Slowly he drove up the familiar driveway and parked in front of the house. There was light behind the windows so Bobby was still up, probably waiting for him.

Dean got out of the rented car and his first way was over to the black Impala waiting for him at the side.

"Hello, Baby." He ran a hand over the familiar curves of her body. "You missed me?"

"Of course she missed you, idjit." A gruff voice suddenly spoke up behind him. "And she ain't happy that I had to tow her here and then you never showed up to get her."

"I'm here now." Dean had to blink against the tears and embraced the other man in a bear hug. "Good to see you."

He inhaled deeply, bathing in the scent of whiskey and Old Spice. For a while he'd thought he wouldn't see the old man ever again. But here he was.

"You hungry, boy?"

Dean just nodded, he didn't trust his voice right now, and followed his friend inside. The rich aroma of chili greeted him, letting his stomach grumble.

"Sit down." Bobby gestured at the set table and went over to the stove to stir the chili. "I know you're hungry."

Because I always come here hungry, Dean thought, feeling a little ashamed that for years this had been his last refuge when money had become too tight to buy himself something to eat. Then he spent his last money on gas, or siphoned it from other cars, and got his ass over here.

This time was different, though.

"You look good." Bobby had his first real look at him and Dean wondered if he looked any different. Bobby hadn't changed the slightest since the last time he'd seen him, maybe a few more gray hairs but that was it.

"I am good." Dean could truly say.

"So this Sam is good for you." He turned around to fill their bowls.

"He is." However, Dean wasn't sure if this was still true. But he was here to figure that one out.

"You could have brought him with you." Bobby set the bowls down and took a seat. "You know you're always welcome here. And I'd love to meet your boyfriend."

"It's not that." Dean knew exactly what Bobby was trying to say here. He wouldn't beat him to pulp for kissing a boy. "He's on a business trip so I decided to visit you in the meantime." It was a lie but easier to tell than the truth. Especially since he still hadn't made up his mind how much he wanted to tell Bobby.

"Hmm." Bobby made.

They ate in silence for a while.

"I brought some of the cars." All of them. "Is it okay if I hog your garage? I need to get them ready as soon as possible, the customers are waiting."

"Look at you." Bobby gave him a warm smile. "The customers are waiting. Way to go, boy, way to go." He patted Dean's shoulder and Dean soaked in the affection.

"Just so you know, I want to see them." Bobby added. "Pictures are fine and dandy but I want to see the real thing. Remember that car you built that one summer? You rebuilt it from scratch, better than new. You've always been quite handy."

"Yeah, I remember that thing." Dean allowed himself to enjoy the memory for a moment and cut it off when it turned not so happy.

They dumped the dishes in the sink, they would take care of that tomorrow for now they were too full and tired, at least Dean who'd been on the road for almost two days now.

"Your room is ready." Bobby said. "Fresh sheets and everything."

"Thanks."

"Welcome home, boy."

Only minutes later Dean snuggled into the pillow and with a sigh he drifted off to sleep.

This was the first night in a while he slept alone and when he woke up in the morning he felt rested but shades of nightmares lingered in the back of his mind.

"I just hope I didn't scream." Dean mumbled to himself and padded on bare feet over to the bathroom for a shower. When he came downstairs Bobby was already up and had coffee ready.

"You're a lifesaver."

Dean sat down with the coffee and just allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

"How do you feel?" Bobby asked. "The old bed still good enough for you?"

"I'll get used to it again." Now he missed Sam's ridiculously large bed. And Sam.

"Want to show me the cars?" Bobby changed the topic and Dean was grateful for that, he didn't want to think about Sam right now. And he hadn't lied about the customers waiting. If he wanted to keep his little business running he should get back to work.

"Wow." Bobby made when Dean carefully got the cars out of the box and put them on the table. Two were barely recognizable as cars yet, just the basic electronics on a board but the other three already had a rough body.

"They don't look like much yet." Dean defended his work. "Before I left I dropped the latest one off at the post office. I should have a picture online, I can show you later on your computer."

Bobby nodded, eyes still on the unfinished cars as if he could picture what they would look like once they were finished.

"You never told me what happened to your phone and computer." Bobby picked up on the computer part. "If you had to sell them I have to yell at you. You could have come to me, you know that. Instead you just drop off the radar and I don't know if you're alive or not."

Over the emails it had been easy to avoid those questions but now Bobby was pinning him down with a glare, demanding an answer.

"I got mugged." Which wasn't exactly a lie. "They took everything."

"You left your car." Bobby wasn't done just yet. "When you finally call you don't want to tell me anything. And your emails? They sound like someone's reading over your shoulder." He paused, locking eyes with him. "Dean, where have you been? And don't feed me crap here."


	37. Chapter 37

Dean had left.

Sam returned to the loft and dropped on the couch. Dean was gone. After months of having him around constantly it felt strange to be alone again.

"Uh." Sam made and let his head fall back to rest on the back of the couch. He hoped Dean would be back soon, two weeks wasn't that long, but right now it felt like Dean was gone for good.

He had kept his promise, though, and had made sure that Sam was fed to the brim and just sitting there didn't help to make him more awake. Sam let his mind drift and minutes later he was fast asleep. He slept most of the weekend, at times with the TV on as if he had to pretend that he wasn't alone, the voices filling the silence Dean had left behind, and then he sat there for hours and just felt content and lazy. Fed like this thinking wasn't his strong suit and for once he was grateful for that.

The nights were the worst. Strange how quickly one could get used to sleeping next to somebody. Never before had his bed felt so large and empty.

He went to work on Monday as usual and by then he had sobered up enough to actually get some work done. In fact, it was great for keeping his mind busy.

"Don't strain yourself." Ellen came in in the afternoon to check on him. "You've been working like insane today. What's up?"

"Nothing." He drew his hands from the keyboard where he'd been typing like a maniac. He'd never been a slacker but today he just wanted to get stuff done.

Ellen gave him a hard look.

"Trouble?" She asked.

"I hope not." Sam admitted and shook his head.

"Is this about Dean?" She prodded again.

Sometimes Sam wished he wasn't friends with her. She knew exactly when something was up, like a sixth sense, but this was kind of hard to explain.

"He's visiting a friend for a couple of weeks." He finally said and felt better immediately

"Okay." She didn't ask farther but left it open to him to talk if he wanted to. He wasn't sure if he wanted to but at the end of the day he had to go back to his place, which would be empty and cold and there would be no dinner for him and no Dean who would tell him about his cars.

"We needed some time apart." He finally said. "To figure things out."

"Oh, dear."

"It's not bad." He hurried to say. "It's just the way this all started, we couldn't go on like that. But I'm sure it'll work out in the end."

"Sometimes some time apart is a good thing." She agreed and left it with that. "You know what, Ash and a few others want to go out for a drink after work. They asked me to come along. You should come, too."

Nobody had asked Sam but over the past months he'd always turned them down so they had probably given up asking him. Now it sounded like a good idea.

"Sure, why not?"

They went to a bar, not the one he'd been with Dean, and Sam actually had fun.

"You should come with us more often, man." Ash said and ordered them a new round. "You can't just stay at home every evening, that's not good for you. What happened to the Sam who went out clubbing every weekend?"

"He met somebody." Ellen jumped in and raised her glass. "To Sam and Dean."

She didn't add that there was currently a question mark at the end there and neither did Sam. Dean would be back. He was sure of it. Because he had no idea what to do otherwise.

They all had to work the next day so nobody got really drunk, just an hour of easy fun to shake off the work day, and Sam was home rather early.

Like he'd predicted the loft was dark and empty. He went straight for his too big bed and fell asleep immediately.

On Tuesday he entered Dean's room for the first time since he'd left. He'd helped Dean packing the other day and back then it had felt like Dean's room. Now it felt as empty as the rest of the place. There wasn't much left in the closet, Dean had taken most of his stuff with him. Sam cleared out the rest. This would become the guest room once again. If – when – Dean came back Sam's bedroom would become their bedroom.

In the depths of the closet Sam found a bundle he hadn't noticed before. Curios he shook it out. Pants and a shirt made of cheap cotton. The clothes Dean had been wearing at the Food Market. The clothes Sam had bought him in.

Sam balled them up to a tight bundle, not caring that the already threadbare fabric ripped under the force, and almost sprinted outside. In the driveway he threw the bundle to the ground and then went to get some gas and a lighter.

The clothes caught fire with a whoosh and seconds later they were gone in ash and smoke.

"Should have done that a long time ago." He muttered and without another look at the smoldering remains he went back inside. Why Dean had kept them he had no clue, or maybe he had, but they were gone for good. That part of their life was over.

Back in Dean's room he took out the other clothes Dean had left, not many and nothing Dean really cared about, and carried them over to his bedroom. Then he spent the rest of the evening with sorting through his own clothes to make room in the closet for Dean. When he came back, half of the closet would be his.

By now it was late but Sam wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. He went back to Dean's room and took out the last things left in the closet. Three cars made out of boxes, toilet paper and egg white. The two older ones looked raw and unfinished but the last one, the model of Dean's baby, was still gorgeous. Sam had never understood why Dean had put it away when he'd started building the scrap cars.

He took it over to his bedroom and set it on his nightstand. Now he was ready to sleep.

A few days later, Sam was at work, he got a call from Benny.

"I'm at your place." The vampire said without a greeting. "Dean isn't here."

"I know." Sam hurried to say.

"When will he be back?"

"I don't know."

"So he's not just in town doing the groceries." Benny summed it up. "You let him go."

"I did." Sam leaned back in his chair and looked up to the ceiling.

"He coming back?" Benny's voice became soft, he knew what Dean meant to Sam.

"Dunno." Sam admitted. "He's been gone for only a few days. Told him to stay clear for at least two weeks."

"You good?"

"Ask me in two weeks." Sam sighed. "What are you doing at my place anyway?"

"I was looking for Dean." The _duh_ hung unspoken in the air.

"Something about his dad?" Dean had told him that John was about to get free and that was the only reason he could think of why Benny went to see Dean. At a time when he knew Sam wouldn't be home. The way Benny didn't answer told him enough.

"You can tell me." Sam assured him. "Dean told me everything. The dead kid, Dean in the hospital, John in prison."

"He told you that the bastard would get out?" Benny asked.

"That too."

"Well, he is out now." Benny confirmed what Sam had been guessing. "So letting him leave probably wasn't such a great idea, at least not now."

"You think he's coming for Dean?"

"Can't tell." There was a scratching noise in the line as if he was rubbing his beard. "But I'd feel better if Dean was still safely at your place. Nobody knew where he was."

Benny had a point there but it was too late, Dean was gone. Maybe it was a good thing, though. Otherwise he may have never let him go. With his dad out there on the loose it would always be _too dangerous_.

"Maybe you should call him." Benny interrupted his thoughts.

"I'd rather not." Sam raked a hand through his hair.

"He would be the safest at your place." Benny pointed out and he was right. John didn't know about Sam's place and here Dean had Sam to protect him. John would get a nasty surprise if he tried to get through him. And here they had the community as backup.

"I don't want to influence him by calling him." Sam finally said. "The last thing he needs right now is a call like that."

"You should at least warn him. I don't know if he's coming for Dean or how dangerous he is but if Dean sticks to places he knows ..." Benny didn't finish the sentence.

If John Winchester was on a vendetta, Bobby's place was the first one he'd come looking for Dean, Sam knew that.

"Could you give him a call?" Sam asked. Coming from Benny the warning would be a warning and nothing more. "And I'm going to write Bobby an email, just to let him know as well."

"Bobby?" Benny asked. "As in Bobby Singer, Dean's surrogate father?"

"Yes?" Benny must have read Dean's file rather throughly if he remembered that name.

"Okay, he really told you then."

"He did."

Sam gave him Dean's number and then went to write Bobby an email. For a second he was tempted to ask how Dean was doing, if he'd even arrived safely, but in the end he just told the man that John Winchester was out of prison.

He did add a "Please watch out for Dean.", that couldn't hurt, right? He hit send and then sat back. He wasn't sure what to make out of the situation. For all he knew John could be celebrating his freedom with lots of alcohol and didn't care at all what his son was doing.

"Yeah, right." The man had Dean under his thumb all his life, had almost beaten him to death when he'd seen him with a boy. His fifteen year old son. Three month in a coma. The other kid dead. That didn't sound like a man who'd just go on with his life.

Did he blame Dean for his time in prison? What did he think of Bobby who'd taken in his son like he was his own?

"I've a bad feeling about this." Sam muttered but he'd done all he could. Bobby was warned and by now Benny had called Dean as well. There was nothing he could do on his end. Hope that Dean would come home to him but other than that?

When Sam came home that day the loft felt even emptier than before. He missed Dean. To himself he could admit it, not that Ellen and Benny hadn't figured that one out on their own.

He ordered food in, no way was he messing with Dean's kitchen, he would kill him when he came back and Sam had ruined his favorite sauce pan. He ordered for two, just to have something he could reheat the next day, but he couldn't even fool himself.

"Pathetic." He left Dean's box on the counter and went with his over to the couch and turned the TV on. At least that would fill the silence.

After dinner he opened the laptop. First he had a look at Dean's website. The picture of the latest car was up so wherever Dean was he had time to update his website.

Then he opened his email.

Bobby had answered:

_Let John be my problem._

_Stay away from Dean, you sick bastard!_


	38. Chapter 38

"Dean, where have you been? And don't feed me crap here." Bobby asked.

Dean closed his eyes and braced himself on the work bench, facing away from his friend. Of course he would ask but Dean had hoped for a little grace period. Just a day or two to sort his mind and come up with a cleaned up version of his story.

Hell, two days ago he'd been with Sam and had just been getting used to the idea to spend some time separated to figure things out. And he needed to figure things out, he knew that.

But now Bobby was asking his questions and Dean had no idea what to say. Even the cleaned up version was pretty fucked up.

"Dean?" Bobby was at his side, one hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, boy. It's okay, in and out, easy."

Gray spots swam in his vision and Bobby's voice sounded distant.

"In and out." Bobby kept coaching him through every breath but it took a while for Dean to come back. He felt dizzy and exhausted and when Bobby manhandled him over to a chair he didn't protest. He slumped down, elbows on his knees and head hanging and just focused on his breathing, in and out.

"You good, boy?" Bobby asked after a while and offered him a bottle of water, wherever that came from. Dean drank greedily and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

"That bad, uh?" Bobby put the bottle aside and eyed him closely.

"I'm okay."

The older man didn't look like he believed him but he didn't repeat his question either and Dean counted that as a victory. There he had his graze period.

"I'd like to set up my workplace now." Dean finally said.

"Of course, make yourself at home." Getting the hint Bobby left him alone.

Dean stayed in the chair for a while longer until he felt steady enough to unpack his things. The other day he'd only brought in his bag with clothes, most of his tools and material were still in the car.

Happy to have something to do, Dean went to work. Around noon Bobby was back with sandwiches and beers and they had lunch in the garage. Just like when he'd been a kid and Bobby had let him tinker with a car or a radio.

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean said when he'd finished his sandwich and he didn't only mean the meal.

"You're welcome." Bobby handed him another beer. "You can stay as long as you want, you know that, right?"

"I was thinking two weeks, more or less." He took a sip of the bottle.

"Something special in two weeks?" After his little freak out earlier Bobby seemed to have tuned his questioning down a bit.

The man was curious, Dean got that, but he wasn't ready to talk just yet.

"Sam and I are taking a while off from each other." Dean answered, this part was easy.

"It's not working out between you two?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Bottle still in hand he made the three steps over to the workbench were everything was set up now.

"This Sam seems like a nice guy." Bobby stated. "At least what I can tell from your emails."

"He is." Dean hadn't forgotten what Bobby had said about the emails earlier. That they sounded censored.

"Dean, I know this is none of my business." He stepped closer. "But when you were a kid, I saw things, I heard things, hell, John wasn't exactly subtle, and I did nothing. I should have done something and I'm still sorry that I was such a coward."

"You're not a coward." Dean tried to say it easily but he didn't like where this conversation was heading. What Bobby was implying. On the other hand, was he that far off?

"You dropped from the face of the earth and when you came back it was with two short phone calls and you didn't tell me anything. And then there is this Sam. Dean, I'm worried."

"You don't have to be." Dean assured him. "Sam is not abusing me, if that's what you're implying."

"Okay." Bobby let it be for the moment but he would be back with his questions, that was for sure. And maybe it would be a good thing to talk about it. Not that Dean was a big talker especially when it came to his feelings or his traumatic experiences but Bobby had always been there for him. If he couldn't talk to Bobby, to whom could he talk?

For the rest of the day Dean buried himself in work and he had to say that the car he was working on came around quite nicely.

He only came in when it was time for dinner. They had leftover chili, it tasted best the second day anyway, and Bobby did most of the talking. Dean hadn't lived in Sioux Falls for years but he still knew most of the names Bobby came up with and a little town's gossip was better than talking about something else.

They ended the evening with some TV, Bobby's set wasn't as big as Sam's but Dean was grateful for everything different. He tried to think about Sam as less as possible. He had time to come to terms with his feelings and he knew at this point everything was still way too fresh to actually deal with it.

He went to bed rather early but for long hours he couldn't sleep. Lying in bed alone in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts for company, everything rushed back in. With memories circling in his mind he finally fell asleep.

He woke up in Bobby's arms, who held him tight and just whispered in his ear.

"It's okay, boy. It's okay."

Dean blinked and had to swallow against the rawness of his throat.

"Bobby?"

"You had a nightmare." Bobby let go of him. "You okay now?"

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. He knew this was it for the night, there was no way back to sleep for him, so he got out of bed and went downstairs in search for a drink. Bobby followed him.

"Go back to bed, Bobby." He said but the older man just opened a cabinet and came up with a bottle of Jack.

"Glasses over there."

"I know where you keep your glasses."

They sat down with their drinks. Dean downed his in one go and poured himself a second one. He felt Bobby's eyes on him but he didn't comment on Dean's drinking.

"You're still having those nightmares." Bobby gave him an opening.

"Didn't have them while I slept in Sam's bed."

Bobby nipped at his drink. "Same old stuff?"

"Partly." He remembered flashes from the Food Market and things from the bar mixed with what John had done. But it was all blurred together, Dean couldn't tell what his dream had been about, he only remembered disturbing images and an uneasy feeling.

"I got kidnapped." He'd said it before he was even sure if he wanted to say it. He was pretty sure he didn't want to say it but the words were out.

"You what?"

"That's why I was so suddenly gone, I got kidnapped." He studied the amber liquid in his glass. Kidnapped, that sounded so harmless. And it didn't even start to cover what had happened to him.

"Who?" Bobby asked, still in clear disbelief. "Why?"

Now came the tricky part.

"Pros." Dean answered and reached for the bottle. Getting drunk sounded like a good plan. "Got hit with a tranq dart, woke up in a truck with a others like me. Like cattle."

Bobby didn't say a word, clearly debating with himself if Dean was yanking his chain here.

"What did they want?" He finally asked.

"People." Dean finished his drink but when he reached for the bottle again, Bobby snagged it away and put it out of reach. So much for getting drunk. But the alcohol he already had in his system started to work. Warmth spread in his stomach.

"They sell people for … special services." Better leave out the food part, he thought to himself.

"Special services? You mean …?" Bobby didn't even dare to put his suspicion in words. It was almost adorable.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

"Did … I mean …" Bobby cleared his throat.

"Did somebody buy me?" Dean asked the question for him. "Somebody bought me." He needed another drink. He held out his glass to Bobby and now the older man didn't hesitate and poured him a stiff drink. And refilled his own glass.

"I'm not going to tell you the details." Dean said just to make that point clear. Not that he expected Bobby to ask about the details here.

"How did you get away?"

"He let me go."

There was a moment of silence while Bobby tried to wrap his head around the new information.

"How does Sam fit in?"

"Make an educated guess." Dean finished his drink and set the glass aside. He should stop now or he would regret it in the morning.

"He?"

"He." Dean thought about the emails he and Bobby had exchanged. More often than not Dean had mentioned Sam and always in a good way. Okay, Sam had been the one typing but at that point Dean didn't have much negative to say about Sam. That he liked to hog the blanket but otherwise?

"And he just let you go?"

"He's not a bad person." Dean felt the need to defend Sam here. "A little naive maybe when he thought things would just work out like that. But in the end he was right, it did work out between us."

"Why did he let you go then?" Bobby still tried to figure out what Dean was telling him. And he doubted he could make the other man understand. Sam and him, that was fucked up, he knew that.

"Because he loves me." There, that was the answer.

Bobby nodded to that as if he'd expected this response.

"Dean." Bobby cleared his throat. "Do you need to see a doctor?" He fiddled with his drink but had a steady eye on Dean.

"What? Why would I …?" Dean needed a moment to get what Bobby was implying here. "No." He hurried to say. "Sam never forced me and he for sure didn't hurt me."

Bobby studied him for a moment longer before he gave him a short nod.

"Have you been to the police?" Of course he would bring up the police. Dean chuckled to that. He had a cop on speed dial, if that helped?

"No, I haven't." He confirmed. "And I won't."

For one, he didn't want to get Sam in trouble and second, the community owned the city. If he informed the police here, they would just transfer it there and he knew how that investigation would end. No, the police wasn't an option.

"You should at least think about it."

Dean promised he would, thinking didn't hurt, and Bobby seemed satisfied with that.

The next few days Bobby let him be for the most part, just letting him know that he was there if he wanted to talk or needed anything, and Dean appreciated that.

Dean spent most of his time in the garage, working on the cars, or searching the yard for scrap he could use. He tried to not think too much about Sam.

Then one day Dean's phone rang. He carried it around in his pocket just in case Sam would call, even if he had promised he wouldn't, but when he looked at the screen, the caller ID didn't read Sam.

"Benny?" He finally answered the phone. "Is Sam alright?" That was the first reason coming to mind why the vampire would call him. Turned out there was a second one.


	39. Chapter 39

_Stay away from Dean, you sick bastard!_

Sam reread the line a million times and with every reading his heart sank farther. Bobby had never exchanged emails with Sam before but Dean had mentioned him once in a while and so far Bobby had been supportive. Had even asked how Sam was doing. And now this. Now he was a sick bastard who should stay away from Dean.

Sam shut the laptop and rubbed his face with both hands. He didn't like what the words were implying.

Dean had told his friend about him, obviously. And not in a good way. He didn't know how far Dean had gone here. Had he told his friend about the Food Market? About the community? He doubted it. Without proof something like that was hard to believe. However, even with the supernatural stripped off, Dean's story wouldn't let Sam look like the good guy here.

Hell, he wasn't the good guy. He had bought Dean, a living, breathing human being, for his own entertainment. Had imprisoned him and had forced him to have sex with him. They got better, true, but that didn't change the things he'd done. The things he'd done to Dean.

The hateful words Bobby had used in his email told Sam more about Dean as well. How he must have told his story to leave this impression.

"He's not coming back." Sam realized. "He's not coming back."

He didn't blame Dean. He had the right to make this decision. It had been Sam who had sent him away so he could make this decision on his own without Sam around to influence him. This was what he had wanted. A Dean who decided for himself.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but he would accept it. It still hurt, though.

"I need a drink."

It didn't stay at that one drink, he only stopped when the bottle was empty and getting up to get a new one looked like too much effort. He fell asleep on the couch and woke up with a stiff neck and the taste of roadkill on the tongue. He hauled his carcass upstairs for a shower and he did feel better after that but work that day was still no fun at all. Gritting his teeth he suffered through the day.

Of course Ellen had noticed and had offered him some strong painkillers for his headache.

"Keep the drinking for the weekend." She told him in her mom voice.

"Won't happen again." He promised.

"Something happened?"

"I don't think Dean's coming back."

"He said that?" Ellen asked, her face softened with sympathy.

"No, we haven't spoken for a week or so." Sam shook his head which he instantly regretted. Damn hangover.

"How do you know, then?"

"A friend of his told me." That wasn't exactly true but came close enough. He didn't want to explain his complicated relationship with Dean to her. Not that she would understand, though.

"Listen, son." There was the mom voice again. "Don't jump to assumptions. Friends lie, friends get things wrong. As long as Dean doesn't tell you to the face that he's done with you, he isn't done with you."

She had a point there but Sam still doubted it. Bobby had changed from supportive to threatening and there was only one way to explain it.

"Get back to work, I need that file."

"Yes, ma'am."

At the end of the workday he drove home to his empty loft and dropped on the couch. His headache was still there. A pounding behind his ears and he knew he should just sleep it off but thinking of his empty bed he didn't want to lie there alone with nothing but his thoughts.

There was another way for him to feel better.

Sam grabbed his jacket and the keys.

His usual hunting ground, the bars and clubs, wouldn't offer him much at this time of the day but Sam didn't have the patience to seduce somebody anyway. It would be the safest way to get what he needed, he knew that, but the hunger gnawed at him and he could barely see straight anymore. He needed to feed. Now.

And he knew in which part of the town he would find what he needed.

This had always been his last resort. Paying for sex was an easy way to get sex but that wasn't exactly what he was looking for. He needed his partner to enjoy it and that wasn't always included in the service.

Half an hour later he was in a cheap motel room with a young man who looked a little like Dean. Well-built, short hair, green eyes. He didn't look like Dean at all but Sam didn't really care.

There was nothing coming from the other man, no arousal, no pleasure and that was a fact he did care about.

"Hey, no kissing." The man held him back when he tried to bring their mouths together. Sam sighed.

"A hundred for one kiss. With tongue." He got his wallet out and showed him the money.

"You really want that kiss, don't you?" The man snagged the bill and when Sam came closer this time he parted his lips for him willingly.

When Sam was done with him, the guy lay unconscious on the bed. Spread out with come splattered over his stomach and lube dripping out of him.

With Dean he had been careful, had only taken what Dean could spare. With this guy Sam hadn't held back, he'd only stopped when he'd felt him fading. Dean wouldn't want him to kill somebody.

Sam left without looking back.

He felt better now, his headache was gone and so was the hunger. For now. It was probably a bad idea to have random sex while he waited for Dean to come back but he was going insane here and that always burned him out like nothing else.

Was this cheating? He wasn't sure.

This was an act of need and had nothing to do with love or even lust, he reminded himself.

He still felt ashamed, maybe even guilty for what he'd done, at least to himself he could name those feelings. He didn't have the intention to ever tell Dean about this, though. If he even got the chance to talk to him ever again.

Back home he took out his phone and scrolled down the contact list until he found Dean's name. His thumb hovered over the call button but he knew he wouldn't call him. The ball was on Dean's side now, so to speak, all Sam could do was to wait and hope.

Sam sleepwalked his way through the rest of the week and just sighed in relief when he came home on Friday.

Later that evening the door bell rang.

For a stupid moment he was convinced that Dean was back. Of course he wasn't. When he opened the door Benny grinned at him, stupid hat deep in his eyes and a six pack under his arm.

"Thought you could use some company." The vampire announced and squeezed past Sam before he could come up with an excuse to not let him in. "We could marathon our way through your horror movie collection."

Sighing Sam closed the door behind him and followed his friend upstairs. He wasn't really in the mood for company, he'd like to stew in his own misery, thank you very much, but Benny didn't want to hear about that.

They hadn't really spoken since Benny had called him about Dean's dad, so that was his first question.

"Any news on that bastard?"

"Nothing." Benny shook his head. "Keeps his head down. We have nothing on him so there's no reason to look for him. As long as he doesn't do anything ..." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I could contact a few nests, though. Give his description out."

"No." Sam shook his head. As tempting as this was, Dean wouldn't want that. His dad was a bastard who deserved becoming vampire chow if anybody would bother to ask Sam, but Dean wasn't that kind of guy. He doubted Dean could ever forgive or forget but he wouldn't want John to die. Not like this.

"It was just an idea." Benny accepted his decision and pried them two beers from the pack.

"You did call Dean, right?" Sam had to make sure. He had warned Bobby but he would feel better knowing that Dean got the warning as well.

"Yeah."

"How was he?" He shouldn't pry here, he knew that but how could he not?

"Fine." Benny took a sip from his bottle. "First thing was asking if you are alright. He cares about you." Benny watched him from the corner of his eye but Sam pretended he didn't notice. Dean cared about him? That was good, wasn't it?

"What?" Benny asked when he saw his reaction. "You thought he would think otherwise?"

"I'm not sure." Sam rolled the bottle between his hands. Then he told Benny about Bobby's email.

"Uh." Benny made at that. "And you think Dean told him everything."

"Not everything." Sam said. "I doubt he would just tell his friend what I am. Or about the community. But he's told him enough."

Benny didn't say anything to that for a long moment.

"Two weeks you said?" He finally ask.

"Two weeks at least." Sam sighed. "I told him to take as long as he needs. I'm not even sure if he would tell me if he's not coming back. Maybe I'll just never hear from him again."

"He would let you know." Benny seemed sure about that. "I don't know him as well as you do but he wouldn't just leave you in the dark. He would at least tell you, make a clean cut."

"I hope so." Not knowing was the worst.

"So, movie." Benny set the bottle aside and went over to the shelves with the DVDs. "What's your trashiest horror movie?"

"I've some vampire stuff." Sam craned his neck to look at him over the back of the couch. "I feel like I could go with slashing some blood suckers."

Benny gave him the finger without turning around, still reading the titles of the movies.

He came back with a stack of movies, all of them old, some not even in color.

"You know." Benny handed him the stack so Sam could decide with which one they should start. "Two monsters watching horror movies, that sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

"You are a bad joke." Sam shot back. "And this old films are a joke by themselves, c'mon Swamp Monster?"

"There's no better comedy than old horror movies." Benny defended his choices. "And I figured you could use a good laugh."

They spent the evening with bad old horror movies and they had a good laugh, Sam had to admit. Now and then he glanced at the other end of the couch where Dean's usual place was but then he turned back to the TV and Benny.

At four in the morning they called it a night. Neither of them was sober anymore and Sam was so tired, his vision swam and his eyes were burning. Benny crashed on the couch while Sam went upstairs for his own bed. For a second he'd thought about offering his guest room but that was still too much Dean's room so he didn't bring that up. Benny seemed content with the couch anyway.

From the balustrade he had one last look at his friend who was already fast asleep with his hat drawn over his eyes.

"Night, Benny." Sam whispered and turned in as well.

In the morning Sam didn't feel as bad as the other day, nothing an aspirin couldn't cure and his hunger hadn't become worse so everything was fine.

"We should repeat this." Benny said when he was ready to leave. "Just give me a call when you feel like some company."

"I will." Sam promised and had every intention to make use of that offer. "Thanks, Benny."

Benny tipped his hat and then he was gone.


	40. Chapter 40

"Thanks, Benny." Dean ended the call and then just stood dumbfounded in the garage. It was real.

When Benny had told him that John would get out, it had seemed far away, distant and not real. Now John was out and it didn't feel distant at all.

Dean pocketed his phone, took a shaky breath and then went inside in search for Bobby.

"John's out of prison." He said when he found the other man in the study over a book. Dean dropped in the chair in front of the desk.

"How do you know?" Bobby looked up from the book, some old stuff probably not even in English. Dean had never understood what the other man found so appealing in old books.

"A friend called." Dean answered vaguely.

"Is he sure?" Bobby ask, his face guarded, waiting for an explanation.

"He's a cop. The same who told me that John would get out eventually." Dean rubbed his face. "He's out now."

"How did you become friends with a cop anyway?" Bobby tried to say it lightheartedly but it was forced, Dean could tell. "Did he bust you or something?"

"He's a friend of Sam." Dean answered and regretted it the same moment. Bobby's expression became stone cold at the mention of Sam.

"You sure this isn't just a trick to make you come back?" He asked bluntly.

"He just wanted me to know. He wants me prepared." Dean shook his head. "Sam ... he's not like you think."

Bobby nodded to that but Dean doubted he believed him. How could he? With the things Dean had told him about Sam it was a miracle Bobby hadn't called the police on him.

"And he's friends with a cop." Bobby took that in. At least that part would keep him from doing something in that direction.

"He just wants me to be safe."

"You are safe here, you know that, right?" Bobby focused on Dean again. "If John is dumb enough to come here, I've some buck with his name on it."

"Thanks, man." Dean had to grin at that thought. However, he really hoped John wouldn't show up. He was fine with never seeing that man ever again.

At least he had Bobby at his side, that was the only thing keeping him from freaking out right now.

"I should get going, these cars don't built themselves." He stood up but hesitated when he noticed Bobby's expression.

"I'm happy you found something you like." He said, affection clear in his voice. And the promise to do everything in his power to protect this for Dean. To protect Dean.

"You mean that I finally grew up and became responsible?" Dean snorted, glossing over the deeper meaning. Bobby would understand him, he always did. "Sure."

With a grin on his lips Dean went back to work.

Building the cars was one part, the fun part, but another one was customer service. With his cars being custom made he had to write back and forth with the customers until they had settled on a design and sometimes Dean had a hard time explaining why this or that wasn't possible. You know, physics and all that. But most of the time he enjoyed that part as well and every new order still gave him that butterfly feeling in his stomach.

Bobby was in town to do some grocery shopping so Dean used the time to check his emails on Bobby's computer.

"Should get one for myself soon." Dean muttered while he waited for the ancient thing to boot. He checked his emails, ordered new parts – it was weird that he now had to use Bobby's address – and then he opened the browser history to search for that one site about airbrush techniques he'd seen the other day but forgot to bookmark.

Looked like Bobby had been searching for a few things as well, Dean found out, his own search immediately forgotten.

Sexual abuse, rape victim, guidelines on how to support a surviver those where the things Bobby had been looking for.

"Shit." Dean closed the window and shut down the computer. "Shit, shit, shit."

Pacing the study he tried to wrap his head around the new information. That was what Bobby thought of him? Of Sam? It hadn't been like that, it ... it ... he had no words to describe what it had been like. Even in the beginning when it had been sex or back to the Food Market it hadn't been like that.

Knowing what he knew now, Sam would have never brought him back to the market but back then he hadn't known. So yeah, he hadn't started sleeping with Sam because he wanted to, it had been part of their deal.

However, Sam had been open with him right from the beginning and had told him what the deal was about. And Dean had accepted. It had been his decision to go with Sam.

A decision which he never regretted, in fact, it was the best decision he'd made in his life. The only better decision would be to go back to Sam and Dean intended to do that. With every day he missed him more and he couldn't wait for this stupid two weeks to be over but he couldn't go back to Sam while Bobby still thought he was abusing Dean. He wanted both men in his life but like this it would be impossible.

The only way out of this was to make Bobby understand, Dean knew that. However, he had no idea how to accomplish that. Not without going into detail about his relationship with Sam and he wasn't sure if he could do that.

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" He muttered to himself.

_Because it's your life_ , a helpful voice in the back of his mind answered.

When Bobby came home a while later Dean didn't say a word and helped him putting away the groceries instead. Then he started dinner. Bobby had raised an eyebrow at Dean the first time he'd insisted on making dinner but after the first meal he had stopped complaining.

While Dean chopped the mushrooms for the stew he had planned, he tried very hard to not think of Sam. But he couldn't help and wonder what Sam was eating while he was gone. Sandwiches and take out probably.

"Just don't dare and try something on your own." He muttered and set the pan on the stove. "I want my kitchen intact when I come home."

He should probably use the rest of the two weeks to convince Bobby that Sam wasn't an abusive monster, Dean thought. He was just a monster, an overgrown, adorable monster. Like the ones on Sesame Street.

"My monster." With a grin and with new vigor he picked up the knife again to chop some onions.

Convincing Bobby turned out to be a nut to crack. Dean didn't want to outright spill all the dirty little secrets so he settled on dropping Sam's name now and then but every time Bobby heard it, his face became cold and guarded.

_Maybe I should bring them together,_ Dean mused. It would probably help if Bobby got to know Sam. But first he had to make sure the other man still wanted him back in his life. That question was still open. Dean was pretty sure that Sam was waiting for him but he would only know for sure after the two weeks. He was planning on calling him at midnight and if he woke him it would be totally Sam's fault.

However, he would have to pack his things here and drive back to Sam and he wasn't sure what Bobby would say to that. Would he try to hold him back? Maybe Dean should invite Sam to come here, let the two men get to know each other here. He only feared that Bobby would sic the sheriff on Sam as soon as he laid eyes on him. He was friends with Sheriff Mills after all. But on the other hand, the sheriff was a friend of Dean as well. She'd scolded at him more often than he cared to remember but he had pulled some stupid shit before he'd left Sioux Falls and she'd never really busted him.

His thoughts ran in circles without coming to a conclusion so he threw himself into his work instead. That always helped him to clear his mind. Two of the cars were almost finished and Baby was in desperate need of some maintenance as well.

And working he didn't have to face Bobby. He wasn't avoiding the other man, he did enjoy his company, but with all this stuff unsolved it just wasn't easy.

A few days later, only three more days until he could call Sam, Dean had the two cars carefully packed up and ready to go. Baby purred like a cat and Dean enjoyed the ride into town to drop the packages off.

He was planning to stop at a hardware store on his way back. Bobby's garage was equipped pretty good but it was set up for working on real cars and not the toy kind and most of Dean's tools were still at Sam's.

He still had no idea on how to proceed after he'd called Sam. Should he stay for a few days longer? It felt wrong to just leave Bobby and go back to Sam while the other man still thought the worst of Sam.

Maybe Sam would come up with a solution. Satisfied with that, Dean dropped off the packages at the post office and then went to get his other stuff.

Other people liked to browse bookstores, for Dean it was hardware. He could spent hours in such a store but most of the time he didn't have the money to buy all the things that caught his eye, let alone a place to store the tools. He'd always misused Bobby's place for that whenever he had the chance, not that Bobby was complaining about new tools, but otherwise Dean had only his car he could call home.

Now, with Sam's place in mind he had a whole basement to fill with new stuff. And he had a valid reason to buy all this.

Two hours later and quite some money poorer Dean left the store and loaded his treasures in Baby's trunk.

"She's still a beauty." Suddenly a voice he hadn't heard in nearly fifteen years spoke up behind him. Dean spun around.

_It couldn't be. No, no, no._

"Hello, Dean." His father said.

Dean felt his chest tighten but he wouldn't freak out, not in front of this bastard. He forced air into his lungs.

"What do you want?" He asked and looked his father in the eye. He wouldn't back down, not anymore. John was older, there was gray in his hair and beard, but otherwise he still looked the same.

"I wanted to see you." His voice was gentle and genuine but his eyes were as dead as always. Cold, calculating, those eyes had never looked at him with love, not even affection, and they didn't start now.

"I don't want to see you." Dean forced himself to turn around and make the two steps to the driver's door. He felt John's gaze burning between his shoulder blades but he just reached for the handle and opened the door.

_Don't show your fear,_ he told himself. His vision grayed around the edges, well known signs of a panic attack but he forced himself to stay calm.

_Not in front of him, not in front of him._

He expected to feel a hand on his shoulder or a fist to his neck but it never came. When he sat in the driver's seat and looked in the rear view mirror John hadn't moved from his spot. Their eyes met via the mirror.

Dean started the car and only breathed easier when John was out of sight.


	41. Chapter 41

For some stupid reason Sam was hoping for Dean to call at midnight. Or to stand at his door. He knew he was overly optimistic here, he didn't even know if Dean wanted to come back, he still had his doubts here, but one could hope, right?

But Dean didn't call at midnight and neither did he the next day. By now Sam was really anxious. It was the weekend so he didn't even have work to distract himself and all he did on Saturday was pacing up and down his living room, waiting for the phone or the door bell to ring. Both stayed annoyingly silent.

On Sunday Sam was convinced that Dean was gone for good. Sam had said that Dean could take all the time he needed but somehow he doubted that Dean hadn't come to a decision yet. So this was his decision. Silence.

Sam stood at the window. It was dark outside so all he could see was his on reflection.

"Pathetic." He told himself. He needed a shave and a good night's sleep and if he was honest, some home-cooked food.

Dean was gone and Sam felt empty. Maybe he should get drunk. With his preferred method of stress relief gone, and no he wouldn't go out tonight, getting drunk seemed like a good alternative.

"You could at least send a text, Dean." He muttered and went over to the shelf to find out if he had any whiskey left. He probably should restock soon. Just when he had poured himself the first drink, his phone rang. The caller ID said Dean.

For a long stupid moment Sam hesitated, afraid of what Dean would tell him. But then he pushed the button.

"Dean?" He asked as if there could be somebody else on the other end of the line.

"Sam, it's me." Dean said at the same time and immediately Sam straightened up. Dean didn't sound right. His voice was ragged and there was a hitch in it as if he'd been crying.

"Dean, you alright?" Sam asked, one hand raking through his hair while his mind was racing with possibilities.

"I'm fine." Dean reassured him and made an audible effort to pull himself together.

"What happened?" John came to mind. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital." Dean confirmed his worst nightmares. "I'm fine, just a sprained wrist and a light concussion."

They should work on Dean's definition of fine, Sam decided.

"Sam, it's Bobby." His voice gave out.

"Oh God, Dean."

"They're not sure if he'll make it." Dean sounded desperate, lost, and Sam wondered if he was alone. Nobody should be alone in this.

"Dean." He didn't know what to say.

"Can you come?" Dean ask almost hesitantly. "Please?"

"Of course." There was no question about that.

Two hours later Sam sat in a plane, thanks to the kitsune working for the airline, and was on his way to Sioux Falls. On the drive to the airport he had called Ellen and now he had the week off, longer if he needed it.

Over the phone he hadn't gotten many details out of Dean, due to the concussion and the shock but mainly because he didn't know if his surrogate father would survive the next hours.

What he did get out of Dean was the fact that John was still out there. By the time the police and the ambulance had arrived at the salvage yard he had been gone. For the rest of the story he would have to wait until he saw Dean.

"Should have listened to Benny." Now he regretted that he hadn't taken the vampire up on his offer to hunt down John Winchester. But maybe it wasn't too late for that. At least he should call Benny and tell him what happened. As soon as Sam himself knew what happened.

_John Winchester, that's what had happened_ , he thought grimly.

The flight went on forever but in the end they finally landed. Sam rented a car and then he was on his way to the hospital. It was still a two hours drive but this way he'd covered the distance in half a day and not in two like Dean had anticipated for his own ride.

Sam parked the car in front of the hospital but then needed a moment to pull himself together. He wouldn't be any help for Dean if he came in like a maniac. Dean needed him calm and collected.

"Here we go." Sam got out of the car, straightened up and then walked up to the entrance.

That something wasn't quite right he noticed the second he asked for Dean Winchester at the front desk. The nurse narrowed her eyes on him, taking him in with a hard look, before she almost hesitantly told him where he'd find Dean. He'd barely turned around when she reached for the phone to tell somebody on the other end that a visitor for Winchester was coming upstairs.

He rode the elevator up to the second floor just like she'd told him and then he turned left. And was stopped by the sheriff.

"You're here for Dean Winchester?" She asked, blocking his way. Her name tag read Mills.

"I'm a friend." He answered. Down the hall he saw two men in similar uniforms, guarding a door. "Dean called me."

"What's your name, sir?"

"Sam Campbell, like I said, I'm a friend of Dean."

"Do you have some ID on you?" She asked in a no nonsense tone but hearing his name she relaxed a little bit. Dean had probably announced his arrival beforehand.

"Of course." He handed her his ID. The only thing real about it was his name but it was as good as a real one, perks of being part of the community.

She had a look and gave it back to him.

"Sorry." She said with a little smile. "But we have to be careful. This way."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Sam asked when he followed her down the hallway.

Now she made a helpless gesture. "This is an ongoing investigation."

"Of course."

"But it's good to see that Dean has a friend." She added when they reached the door. "He and Bobby, they have no family left, all they have is each other and with Bobby ..." She paused. "Dean needs a friend now."

Sam just nodded. He'd no idea what awaited him behind this door but he would be there for Dean, that was the least he could do.

The two deputies guarding the door stepped aside but both of them looked at Sam as if they wanted to memorize his face, what they probably did. Sheriff Mills opened the door and made an inviting gesture.

"The doctor will be in soon." She said and with that Sam was on his own. There were two beds in the room. On the left lay an older man on a vent and attached to beeping monitors. The bed on the right, at the window, was occupied by Dean.

"Hey." Sam whispered in case Dean was only resting and not sleeping but Dean didn't stir when Sam came closer. He had shadows under his eyes, a split lip and a bruise covering the left side of his face. His left arm lay on top of the blanket. It was in a brace but other than that Sam didn't see any injuries. Not that a concussion was something to shrug off.

Sam carried a chair over to sit at Deans side.

"I'm here now." He said and laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder just to let him know that he wasn't alone anymore. Dean mumbled in his sleep and turned his head in Sam's direction but didn't wake up.

A soothing touch had always helped him through the night so Sam sneaked his hand under the blanket in search for Dean's right hand. This one wasn't in a brace and Sam took it in his own and gave it a little squeeze.

For the next hour he just sat there, holding Dean's hand, and watched him sleep.

At one point a nurse came in to check on Bobby, she gave Sam a warm smile and had a quick look at Dean as well.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

"He's fine." She reassured him. "He was lucky." Her gaze wandered over to the other bed but when he asked for details she only promised to send in the doctor as soon as possible.

When the doctor finally came in he couldn't tell Sam much either because he wasn't family. The only thing he was willing to say was that Dean just needed a few days for the concussion to clear up, his arm would need more time to heal but in the end he would be as good as new.

The doctor didn't say anything about Bobby's condition.

"Guess I have to wait till you wake up, uh?" Sam went back to his earlier position in the chair. He just hoped they wouldn't kick him out, it was getting late.

After two hours Dean still hadn't woken up and Sam started to worry a little bit but the nurse assured him that Dean's body needed the sleep to heal itself.

They had probably given him something to help him sleep, Sam figured.

"Coffee?" Sheriff Mills stood in the door with two cups of coffee.

"You're a life saver." Sam accepted it greedily, sitting and worrying was exhausting but he didn't want to fall asleep. When Dean woke up he wanted to be there.

"Did he wake up?" The sheriff asked and the way she looked at Dean Sam wondered how well she knew him.

"Not yet." Sam took a sip of the coffee. "But they say that's normal."

The sheriff nodded to that.

"My people are out there, searching for that bastard." For a moment she didn't care about ongoing investigation. "We'll find him."

"I hope so." Which reminded him that he wanted to call Benny. Maybe the vampire could pull a few strings. This wasn't community territory but the vampire nests were all connected one way or the other and there had to be at least one near by.

Sam wasn't sure if he trusted the humans in this. Their system of justice had clearly failed here. He'd never met the man but he wanted John Winchester gone once and for all.

"So, you're a friend of Dean." For a second he had forgotten about the sheriff. Now she eyed him over the rim of her own coffee.

"Actually, I'm his boyfriend." He wasn't sure if that term still applied but it might get him some more information out of her.

Now she studied him for a long moment but he couldn't find anything negative in her expression.

"It's good to see that he has a boyfriend now." She smiled at him and he was pretty sure she was thinking about the first time John had beaten his son halfway to death.

"S'm?" Suddenly there was a new voice.

"Dean, hey." His attention was instantly on Dean but he did notice that the sheriff left them alone without hesitation.

"You came." Slowly Dean blinked his eyes open.

"Of course I came." He sat down again and when he took Dean's hand now, Dean held on to him as well. "How do you feel?"

Dean was clearly still under the influence of some drugs, with his slurred speech and the glassy eyes, but he was awake enough to drink a few sips of water before he collapsed back into the pillow.

"Bobby?" He asked and tried to crane his neck to see over to the other bed.

"They don't tell me anything." Sam sighed. "But nothing has changed in the last couple of hours."

"You've been here that long?"

"I jumped on a plane the second you called." Sam drew circles on the back of Dean's hand with his thumb and seconds later Dean was asleep again.

Sam made himself more comfortable in his chair and settled in for a long night.


	42. Chapter 42

Sam was there. Dean only woke up long enough to confirm that the voice he was hearing indeed belonged to Sam before he let himself drift back to sleep. His head hurt but not too badly but when he opened his eyes everything was blurred and it seemed to be too much of an effort to figure this one out so he just held on to Sam's hand and let the drugs in his system do their job.

The next time he woke up, he felt clearer, more there, even when is head pounded with every beat of his heart. His first glance was in Sam's direction who slept in the chair next to him. Dean's neck ached from looking at Sam alone but he didn't want to alert the other man. Instead he tried to have a look at Bobby. Last thing he remembered was a doctor telling him that they had to wait and see and that surgery went well and that Bobby was a fighter. As far as he could tell nothing had changed over there so Dean's attention went back to Sam.

He wasn't sure if he really had called him or if that had been a dream but Sam was here so it probably had been real.

"Hey." Sam blinked his eyes open and smiled at him.

"Hey." Dean answered. It was dark outside and the room was only illuminated by a small light, it felt like the wee hours of the morning but Sam was still here at his side.

"How do you feel?" Sam reached for the cup of water before Dean could even ask for it.

"Better." He wiped his mouth with his good hand. "How's Bobby?" He had the feeling that he'd asked that question before but couldn't remember the answer.

"Still the same." Sam half turned in his chair to have a quick glance at the man in the other bed. The beeping of the monitor was steady as was the whoosh of the vent.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam put the cup aside and then rested his elbows on his knees. "Nobody is talking to me. It's a miracle they let me stay. I think that's the sheriff's doing, she was glad that you finally have a visitor."

"Sheriff Mills." Dean remembered seeing her at Bobby's house. After ... images and memories blurred together to a hazy mess. John. That he remembered clearly. "Did they catch John?"

"Not yet." Sam shook his head. "At least as far as I know."

"I met him in town." Dean remembered that. The hardware store. John. "He said he wanted to see me. Told him I didn't want to see him. Then I turned around and just left." A smile ghosted over his lips at that. The last time he'd seen his dad he wouldn't have dared to just turn his back to him and leave.

"What did he do then?" Sam asked.

"Later that evening he came to the salvage yard." Dean frowned, he was a little fuzzy about the details here. "I can't really remember." He closed his eyes with a sigh. Why did the light in here had to be so bright?

"It's okay, you have a concussion." Sam reassured him. "The doc said it wouldn't be unexpected if you don't remember what happened." Sam gave him a smile. "Only frustrating."

"He came for an apology." Bits and pieces came back to him.

"He wanted to apologize?"

Now Dean barked out a laugh that tried to split his head open.

"No." Dean wanted to shake his head to that but thought better of it. "He wanted me to apologize."

"For what?"

"For putting him in jail, for starters." Dean answered and closed his eyes. "For making him look bad, for being gay, for existing."

John's voice echoed through his mind, adding more pain to his already head-splitting headache.

"And he was mad at Bobby for taking me away." He added and now the memories rushed back in. How John had come to the house, the yelling and screaming. The insults. Until Bobby had enough of it and brought out the shotgun. Turned out John had a gun, too. And he was faster.

Everything after that was lost to Dean. He thought that he'd called 911 but he wasn't sure on that. He thought that he remembered that he woke up and doctors spoke to him and that he'd called Sam. And now Sam was here and Bobby lay in the other bed.

"That bastard." Was the only thing Sam said when Dean had finished his story. There were still quite a few blanks Dean still wasn't able to fill but he remembered enough, he could do without the rest.

"I think I want to sleep now." Exhausted from telling his story, more emotional than physical, Dean closed his eyes and reached for Sam's hand. When he felt strong fingers closing around his, he let out a sigh and drifted back to sleep.

He must have missed the part where they'd taken out Bobby's vent. When he woke up, Bobby was breathing on his own and there were less things attached to him and that was a good thing, right?

"Mr. Winchester." A doctor came in. The face was vaguely familiar but Dean couldn't place a name to it. "Good morning. How do you feel?"

It had to be at least very late morning but Dean didn't care about technicalities here.

"How's Bobby?" He asked instead of an answer. The doctor had a look at Sam, who was already half-way out of his chair but Dean stopped him by holding on to his wrist.

"He can stay."

The doctor considered it for a second but then nodded. "As you wish."

Half of the things the doctor said in the next few minutes went right over Dean's head, the headache was manageable today but he still felt a little disconnected with himself, but he understood that he needed a few more days of rest for the concussion to clear up but that he didn't have to stay in hospital for that and that his arm would heal but needed a few weeks.

Bobby was doing fine as well. He was resting now and the doctor was sure that he would make it. They had to dig a bullet out of his guts and it had looked bad for a while but now it looked better. Of course there was no guarantee. With that he doctor left.

"Of course." Dean muttered to himself. Freaking doctors with their vague answers just to keep their own head out of the noose.

"You can leave in the afternoon." Sam had picked up on that. There were still some tests the doctor wanted to do but after that Dean was free to go. He was just not sure if he wanted to leave. Bobby was still here and he was still critical. The doctor hadn't said it like that but Dean knew. It may look fine now but it still could go sideways at any time.

Around noon Sheriff Mills came in to check on him.

"Look who's awake." She smiled at him and had a nod for Sam who hadn't left his place in the chair. Dean wasn't even sure if he had bathroom breaks.

"Hey, Jody." He returned her smile but then sobered up. "Tell me you got him."

"Not yet." She shook her head. "That's why I'm here. The doc said you're ready to go home."

"Yeah, he said something about that." Only then he realized that he was still holding hands with Sam. Blushing he drew his hand back but wondered what Sam had told her. Had he introduced himself as a friend or as more?

"I just need to know if you stay here or go home." She sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed. "So I can guarantee your safety."

"I don't know." He admitted, glancing over to the way too still Bobby.

"Go home, idjit." Came it suddenly from the other bed. "Maybe then I can sleep in peace."

Dean almost fell out of bed in the attempt to get over to the other bed. In the end Sam and Jody had to grab him under the armpits on both sides to keep him upright but he made it over to Bobby.

"You look like crap." Was Bobby's reaction when he caught sight of his battered face. Dean grinned like an idiot.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Dean shot back. He could tell that Bobby was already fading but he had woken up and everything would be fine now. Before Bobby went back to sleep, though, he blinked his eyes open one more time and this time they weren't fixed on Dean. His eyes wandered around, taking in Jody and Sam at his sides. He smiled at Jody but frowned when he came to Sam.

"You haven't met Sam yet." Dean introduced him and silently prayed that Bobby wouldn't react badly to him. There were still some issues to clear up. But after what had happened that seemed like no big deal anymore.

Bobby didn't say anything but he locked eyes with Dean, silently telling him to be careful. Then his eyelids dropped and he didn't open them again.

Sam and Jody helped him back to his bed, where he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"So it's settled?" Jody draped the blanket over him. "You're going home today?"

"Looks like." After Bobby had basically kicked him out, what choice did he have? For sure he could rest better at Bobby's place. And he could get Sam something more comfortable to sit in than this thing they called a chair around here.

"Good. I'll send a car over there." She said. "I want my deputies to have a look at the place beforehand and there will be a car at all times. You two stay there together?" She guessed, looking from Dean to Sam.

"I'm going to play nurse." Sam announced with a smile.

"I think the doctor had said nothing to strenuous for at least a week." She reminded them and Dean just wanted to draw the blanket over his head.

"Yes, ma'am." Sam answered way too cheerfully.

She left to arrange everything so they would be ready when Dean left the hospital.

"Dude, what did you tell her?" Dean hissed as soon as the door closed behind her.

"That I'm your boyfriend." Sam shrugged but then narrowed his eyes on Dean. "If that's still what you want."

"Of course that's what I want, idiot." Dean wanted to kiss him to make his point but for one he would have to lift his head for that and two he didn't want to dose himself up with Sam's saliva. No strenuous activities and all that. So he just raised Sam's hand and kissed his knuckles.

A nurse came in to take him to his tests while Sam started to pack the few things Dean had with him. If he came back clear they could leave immediately and if he was honest he was looking forward to showing Sam the place where he more or less grew up. And his own bed and eatable food, those were things to look forward too.

They found nothing with the tests and when Dean was back in his room the doctor came in for a last check and then he was free to go. Or to get wheeled out of the building. It sucked but he had to admit that he wasn't really steady on his legs just yet.

Bobby had woken up just long enough to tell him to be careful and since Sam was currently outside talking to a nurse, he spoke more openly this time.

"You sure you want him here?" Bobby asked in a low tone. "One word to Jody and you don't have to see him ever again."

"Bobby." Dean sighed, this was probably the worst moment to discuss this. "I know what you think but it's not like that. Sam is a good guy. I trust him."

Dean promised to be back tomorrow and then Sam was there to wheel him out. If Sam noticed the glare he got from Bobby, Dean couldn't tell but he breathed easier when they'd left the room.

"Let's get you home." Sam said and Dean couldn't agree more.


	43. Chapter 43

While Dean was away for his tests Sam stayed back in his room. Where he was alone with the man who had called him a sick bastard and who had told him to stay away from Dean.

Gathering Dean's things Sam glanced over to the man and just hoped he wouldn't wake up. Of course he did.

"So." Bobby fiddled with the bed controls until the headpiece started to move and he could look Sam in the eye. "You're Sam."

"I am." Sam answered and stepped closer. The man looked tired but he had a more healthy color now and a murderous glint in his eyes.

"I told you to leave him alone."

"You did." Sam confirmed that he got the message. "Dean called me. He asked me to come."

"Yeah." Bobby spat out. "And selfless as you are you came to support him." He said the last part as if it was something dirty.

"Look." Sam didn't want to argue with the injured man but he couldn't just leave it like this. "I don't know what Dean told you but I'm not here to harm him. I never wanted to harm him." It was true but didn't change the fact that he had harmed Dean. Maybe not as bad as his own dad but that didn't mean that Sam was any better. He knew that. And he couldn't be grateful enough for the fact that Dean was willing to give him a chance. To give them a chance.

"Buying a person for your own sick pleasure." Bobby said with acid in his voice. "But you didn't mean to harm him. Sure. You disgust me."

"It started like that and I'm not proud of it." He was tempted to add that with him Dean was at least alive but that was just a cheap excuse and he knew it. "But I love him and I believe that he loves me as well."

"That's not love and you know it." His heart rate spiked up and Sam thought about getting a nurse. The last thing he wanted was to cause a heart attack.

"I know how fucked up this is. Believe me, I know." He took a step back maybe with a little distance between them the man would calm down a bit. "That's why he has been with you the last two weeks. To figure out what he really wants."

Bobby opened his mouth to say something to that, probably something not nice, but then the door opened and Dean was back. With a warning glance in Sam's direction Bobby snapped his mouth shut.

At least they did agree on not discussing this in front of Dean, Sam was more than okay with that. Because deep down he still had his doubts. Dean had called him but who else could he call? And the boyfriend thing? He could have said it just to make Sam stay for a little while longer.

However, Sam was sure they could clear this up as soon as they were at Bobby's where they could talk freely. It felt so wrong going there after his little chat with Dean's friend but it was the place Dean called home around here so that was where they were going.

Only minutes later Sam helped Dean into the passenger seat of his rented car and then they left the hospital behind.

"He's fine." Sam assured Dean when he noticed the wistful way he looked in the mirror until the hospital disappeared behind a corner.

"I know." Dean let out a sigh. "It's just ... he thinks you are a monster."

"I am monster." Sam reminded him but wondered how much he had told his friend.

"Not that kind of monster."

"He told me to stay away from you." Sam decided to play with open cards. "He is not happy with me being around."

"I'm happy with you being around." Dean made himself more comfortable in his seat.

"I can be here just as a friend." Sam offered. Most of all Dean needed a friend right now.

"Sam." He had already trouble keeping his eyes open but that came out loud and clear. "I want you. I want us." He forced his eyes open to look at Sam. "What do you want?"

"I want the same. Us."

"Good." With that Dean closed his eyes and rested his head against the glass of the window.

Sam threw him a glance and couldn't help the wide grin splitting his face. Carefully avoiding every unevenness in the road he drove him home.

Thanks to his GPS Sam didn't need Dean to give him directions and not too long later he steered the car through the gate announcing _Singer's Salvage Yard_.

A car from the sheriff's department sat next to the entrance and the man behind the wheel lifted a hand to greet Sam and Dean. Apparently Jody had kept word and had the place guarded.

He didn't know what he'd expected. There were car wrecks and dry weeds growing between them. Everything looked old and not cared for. The only thing standing out was the black Impala in front of the house. That looked very well cared for.

"That's my baby." Dean said with pride in his voice and sat up in his seat. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his good hand he yawned and then reached for the handle to get out of the car.

"She's beautiful." Sam had to admit. Cars weren't his thing but for the last two weeks he'd slept with a model of this car on his nightstand and in real life she was just gorgeous.

"When we drive home we ditch this thing." Dean empathized that part by forcefully shutting the door. "And take her."

Sam liked the idea of Dean coming home with him but first he had to set him up here.

Here turned out to be a rather old house, rundown but comfy. The door had been fixed recently, his money was on yesterday and on the sheriff as the one who had arranged it, but that was the only thing indication that something had happened here. He had been worried that they would come here and find broken furniture and blood on the floor but there was nothing. He made a mental note to thank the sheriff for that.

Sam was used to his large wide open loft so he felt a little claustrophobic when he had a look around the cramped rooms.

"Couch's over there." Dean headed in a direction and Sam followed him closely. So far Dean seemed steady on his feet but Sam was ready to catch him if necessary. The fact that Dean's first target was the couch spoke for itself.

With Dean settled on said couch Sam had a look around the room. Some kind of study filled with books and notes.

"Bobby reads a lot?" He asked.

"What gave you that impression?" Dean threw him a glance and adjusted his arm until he found the best position.

"I have your medicine in the car." Before Dean could tell him how fine he was and that he didn't need something for the pain, Sam was back outside to get their stuff. He could think of a few not so nice words Bobby would have to say to him staying here but he couldn't help it. It wasn't so that he intended to screw Dean on the kitchen table or something.

In the kitchen he found the cabinet with the glasses and filled one with water from the tap.

"Here." He offered the glass and the pills to Dean. "Doctor's order, you heard the man."

Dean took the pills and drank the water and then stretched out on the couch.

"You want to stay here?" Sam asked and shook out the blanket to drape it over Dean's already half asleep form.

"I'm good here." Dean mumbled and then he was asleep.

Feeling like an intruder, what he basically was, Sam sat awkwardly on the chair in front of the desk and had no idea what to do now. After a while nature forced him to at least go to search for the bathroom. He took care of business and then made a quick scoop through the house to get a feeling for the layout. He found Bobby's bedroom and closed the door quickly after he'd figured out whose room this was. No way was he violating the other man's privacy.

Next he found the guest room. This was obviously Dean's for now. His bag sat next to the door and Sam recognized the clothes he found in the closet. The room only had one single bed but Sam didn't have the intention to share Dean's bed at the moment. Not until Dean felt better and for sure not under this roof.

Back downstairs he had a quick look around the kitchen, opened the fridge and the cupboards. Dean hadn't eaten much over the last few days so dinner sounded like a good idea.

Lucky him, Bobby didn't seem to be an advanced cook either, he was well stocked with canned soup and frozen goods.

Sam's cooking skills were high enough to open a can and to heat up some tomato soup without burning it. In addition he made some sandwiches. Satisfied with his work he put it all on a tray and carried it over to the couch.

Dean stirred when he set up the table.

"You cooked for me?" He mumbled when he peered out from under the blanket. "I'm still concussed, you sure I'm up for food poisoning?" He joked but his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

"You will survive." Sam assured him. "Later you may wish you could die from it but you will survive." Sam shot back and filled a bowl for him.

They ate in silence, Dean a little awkwardly because of his wrist but he managed.

After that Sam brought everything back to the kitchen and cleaned up and by the time he came back, Dean was asleep once again. From the door Sam smiled warmly at him.

He used the chance to call Benny and the vampire promised to get the word out the the nests in this area. Satisfied Sam ended the call and then made himself comfortable with a book. At least there was enough to read around here.

For a few hours Dean slept like a rock but then he became restless. Knowing the signs Sam put away the book and came over to sit on the edge of the couch.

"Shh." He made and reached for Dean's shoulder. "You're safe. It's okay, I'm here. You're safe."

He mumbled the soothing words and gently stroke Dean's neck and shoulder, just letting him know that he wasn't alone. Like always it helped and a few minutes later he relaxed under Sam's touch and was back to his deep sleep.

"Sleep well, Dean." Sam whispered and brushed a kiss on his temple. He stayed like this for a while longer, just to make sure that the episode was over, at least for now, before he went back to his chair and the book.

He had a quick look around the books earlier and he really hoped that thinks between him and Bobby would work out. Judging by what he was reading they would get along pretty well. And they were both friends with Dean. Sam sighed.

There was nothing Sam could do about this now so he went back to reading but kept a watchful eye on Dean.

He woke up in the morning with a stiff neck from sleeping with his head resting on the desk. After a second to orientate himself his first look over to the couch but Dean wasn't there anymore. Sam sat up straighter, his vertebrae popping with the sudden movement. He wondered if Bobby would mind if he used his shower.

But first he had to find Dean. He followed the rich aroma of coffee to the kitchen where he found Dean busy at the stove.

"Morning, sleepy." Dean greeted him with a kiss on the lips, just a chaste little peck.

"How do you feel?"

"Screw this." Dean muttered and then he kissed him for real.


	44. Chapter 44

Dean didn't wake up in a hospital bed which he took as a good sign. It took him a moment to connect the thing he was lying on the the couch in Bobby's study, though. Slowly he sat up, wary of his head but except for a distant throbbing and the feeling of pressure behind his eyes, he felt fine.

Sam had fallen asleep on the desk, head resting on a book. For a while Dean just watched him, still not quite believing that he was actually here.

When Sam didn't show any signs of waking up soon, Dean let him be for the moment and went for the bathroom. While he used the toilet he had a longing look at the shower. It was probably a bad idea, he should at least wait for Sam to hover but in the end it was too tempting.

He made it a quick shower, dizziness already creeping up on him, and on shaky legs but with a happy smile on his face he left the bathroom to sit on his bed for a moment.

When he was sure that he wouldn't just pass out as soon as he stood up, he put on some fresh clothes and then went for the kitchen for some much needed coffee. While he waited for the coffee to brew he considered his breakfast options and settled for toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. It wasn't easy to accomplish with only one functional hand but in the end he was quite satisfied with the result.

Right on cue Sam stumbled in and for a second everything else was forgotten. Sam was here. He looked a little ragged from too many nights spent in uncomfortable positions but he was here and that was all that counted.

"Morning, sleepy." Dean greeted him with a peck on the lips, getting dosed up with his saliva was still a bad idea but then he just said "Screw this." and kissed Sam for real.

Sam welcomed him with his mouth open and inviting, tongue darting out and licking along the inside of Dean's bottom lip. God, this was good. Dean melted into the kiss.

"Your bacon is burning." Sam broke the kiss with a pointed look at the stove.

"Shit." Dean spun around to save the bacon and Sam stepped up close behind him, resting he chin on his shoulder. By now Dean was sporting quite a hard-on, damn incubus saliva, but that as worth it.

Sam's hand came to a rest on his waist, fingers spread, framing his groin. He didn't do anything, just let his hands sit there while Dean wielded the spatula.

"What's it gonna be?" Dean asked, pushing his ass backwards until he felt the hard line of Sam's erection. "Breakfast or a quickie?" He wiggled his butt, coaxing a groan out of Sam.

"You heard the doctor." Sam said but didn't drew back. "No strenuous activities for at least a few days."

"Who listens to doctor's orders anyway?" Dean asked. "I'm fine." He reached down and placed Sam's hand right on top of his erection.

"You sure?" Sam just had to ask, hadn't he? But he pressed down firmly and Dean bit back a groan. He'd missed this. Sam's stupidly big paws all over him.

"I knew what would happen when I kissed you." Dean reminded him and pushed into his hand.

"Okay." Sam popped the button of his jeans open. "Just a quick one. Nothing too active."

"Don't worry, I'll just let you do all the work." Dean kissed along the line of his jaw with a smirk.

Sam reached inside Dean's pants, pushing them down just far enough to get access. With a sigh Dean leaned back into his chest, now his head was resting on Sam's shoulder, trusting Sam to take care of him.

"I missed you." He said when Sam's hand closed around him. It felt like coming home.

"You say that the second I touch your dick." Sam chuckle softly into his ear. "I see where your priorities lie."

Dean angled his head to nip at his throat while Sam slowly started to stroke him to full hardness. Not that he wasn't almost there already.

"Don't tell me you don't want to feed right now." Dean mumbled into his skin. "Did you feed while I was gone?" It was maybe not the right moment to ask him if he'd slept with another man but Dean wanted to know.

"Once." Sam admitted, adding that special little twist to the upstroke that never failed to make Dean weak in the knees. But Sam held him firmly with his other hand splayed over his chest, thumb circling his nipple through the t-shirt. Dean closed his eyes with a groan and gave himself over the Sam's skillful hands.

"I picked up some guy working the streets." Sam said between placing hot kisses on Dean's neck. "He looked a bit like you. Took him to a motel."

He pinched the nipple and Dean's mouth fell open with a little cry. "I had to pay a hundred extra so he would let me kiss him. Then I went down on him. Sucked his dick down to the root. I didn't look up so I could pretend it was your dick I was choking on."

Dean let the words wash over him, pictured the scene in his mind. A distant part of him knew he should probably be jealous but this was too hot.

"He came down my throat." Sam continued. "Before he even knew what was happening I had him on the bed and was balls deep in him. I fucked him hard, thrusting into him so hard that he had to brace himself on the headboard. He cried when he came the second time. He was out cold before I even had time to pull out."

Dean knew that feeling, the first times Sam had fed on him he'd been unconscious for the better part of the night.

"When I left he still lay there, fucked out."

Dean pictured that, pictured himself lying on the bed with his own come and lube all over him. That pushed him over the edge.

"Sam!" He cried out and came all over Sam's hand. Holding him tight Sam worked him through the aftershocks and then they just stood there, Dean leaning heavily on Sam.

"I hope we don't have bacon with special sauce now." Sam finally said when he let go of Dean and grabbed a towel.

"You're impossible." Dean shook his head with a laugh but checked on the bacon anyway. It was fine, maybe not sizzling hot anymore but not covered with come. Dean took the towel from Sam and wiped everything clean before he tucked himself back in. He felt tired so Sam had fed but otherwise his head was okay, the pain not worse than before.

"You didn't get off." He observed.

"It's okay." Sam didn't try to hide his obvious erection but he didn't seem to intend to do something about it either.

"Can't leave it like that." Dean stepped closer and slipped one leg between Sam's, giving him some friction. Sam closed his eyes in pleasure for a second but then he backed off. "You should give yourself some rest. You still have a concussion."

"I'm fine." Dean assured him and kissed him on the lips. He slipped his tongue into the wet heat of Sam's mouth and hummed in pleasure when he felt the other man surrender to him. "But you're right, I should just sit and rest. Concussed guy here." He pointed at his own head and then dropped in the nearest chair. Sam blinked at him in confusion.

"However." He drew out the word. "I'd love to see a little show."

"A little show?" Sam perked up at that.

"Back to the counter." Dean ordered and leaned back in his own chair. "Lean against it."

Sam followed his order and getting the hint he pushed his hips out with his butt resting on the edge of the counter. His hands wandered to his crotch but he waited for instructions from Dean.

"Palm yourself through the pants." Dean ordered and couldn't help but mirror Sam's movement. His own dick was spent and only half hard but he just had a fresh dose of Sam's saliva so he might join Sam for the ride.

Sam did as he was told, the heel of his hand grinding down on the base of his cock and then he followed the length of his erection up to the tip. Dean watched him for a moment.

"Take it out." He breathed the words out, his own hand sneaking inside his pants.

Sam shook pants and underwear down far enough to give Dean a good view. Cradling his balls with one hand and working his cock with the other one he looked like a cheap porn star and Dean had never seen anything hotter.

"Fuck your fist." Dean ordered and immediately Sam made a fist and started to fuck the tight tunnel in earnest. It didn't take long until he arched his back and white spurts of come covered his hand. Dean followed him only seconds later, coating the inside of his pants.

"Lick your hand clean."

Sam did that without a second of hesitation, taking good care of every single digit, and then he came over and knelt next to Dean to give Dean's hand the same ministration.

Dean just watched him in amazement. When Sam was done, he placed one last kiss on Dean's lips and then came gracefully up to his feet.

"I could use some breakfast now." Sam announced.

Dean was too spent to do anything so he just stayed where he was while Sam put together their breakfast. Everything was cooked and prepared so even Sam couldn't screw this one up. A minute later Sam placed two plates on the table and coffee for both of them. Dean reached for the latter first, in hope that the caffeine would do its job. He felt like he should just get back to the couch and sleep for a few more hours but he wanted to visit Bobby so sleep had to wait.

They ate in comfortable silence.

"So, I was gone for less than two weeks and you go out to sleep with somebody else." Dean teased while he watched Sam doing the dishes. He would help but his arm … grinning he watched Sam work.

"It's not like that." Sam looked actually guilty at that.

"And then you brag about it while you have your hand down my pants." Dean added for good measure.

"You seemed to like it." Sam defended himself but didn't look in his direction.

"I did." Dean came up behind him and slung his arms around his torso. "You were hungry, I get that. It's okay." He didn't know if Sam's hunger felt like regular hunger but he'd gone hungry too often in his life, he understood.

"I'm guessing there's no chance you're going to let me drive to the hospital." Dean changed the topic.

"No way, concussion boy." Sam said. "I'm driving."

Dean nodded to that, he hadn't expected less.

"You want to drive Baby?" He asked instead.

"You sure?" Sam sounded surprised. "She's your baby."

"She's family." Dean fished the keys out of his pocket and held them up for Sam. "And I think it's time for you to meet the family."

Sam visibly swallowed to that but he took the keys.

"Thank you." His voice was suspiciously thick with emotions.

"One scratch and I am going to kill you." Dean warned and then turned to get his things. He needed to check on the other part of his family.


	45. Chapter 45

Sam knew what the car meant to Dean so he got what Dean was saying when he offered to let Sam drive.

And she was a beauty. Sitting in the driver's seat Sam had to take moment to fully take in that he was about to drive Dean's car.

"You take good care of her." He observed.

"Like I said, she's family." Dean made himself comfortable in the passenger's seat.

Dean had referred to Bobby as family as well and the irony wasn't lost to Sam that Dean's family wasn't connected to him by blood. The only one who was blood didn't count. Not that Sam was an expert on the whole family thing. His father had died by the hands of hunters a long time ago but incubi were loners anyway so he couldn't really relate.

Sam started the car and the engine purred to life.

"Sweet." He had to admit and then carefully drove her down the driveway.

The car from the Sheriff's department was still parked outside and the deputy, not the one they'd seen yesterday, gave them a sharp nod when they passed.

 _John's still on the lose_ , was what shot through Sam's mind at that sight but at least the sheriff did everything she could to keep Dean and Bobby safe. And with Sam at his side, Dean was even safer. Not that anybody but Dean knew. However, Sam hoped that Dean felt at least a bit safer with him around.

He drove Dean over to the hospital where he dropped him off. Sam was probably the last person Bobby wanted to see right now and he didn't actually know him so he figured that it was for the best if he let Dean visit him alone. He was sure that the room was still guarded by a deputy or two so Sam didn't worry too much about Dean.

"Call me when you're ready to leave." Sam said and kissed him goodbye. Then he watched Dean heading for the entrance. As long as he didn't see his battered face Sam could pretend that Dean was fine, the sprained wrist didn't really count, but he knew that Dean was still suffering from the concussion so he just hoped that Dean would get some rest while he sat at Bobby's side.

 _Dean's fine_ , he reminded himself and drove out of the lot. With no real destination in mind he headed into town. The weather wasn't nice enough to be outside, it wasn't raining yet but the clouds where dark and heavy, so he had to either stay in the car or find something else to do.

In the end he found a nice little coffee shop and settled somewhere in the back with his book and a caramel cappuccino. He hoped Bobby didn't mind that he'd borrowed the book but he would bring it back before the man came out of the hospital anyway so he wouldn't even know.

For a moment he let his mind wander to Dean and Bobby and he wondered if Dean had told the other man where Sam was staying. And what Bobby had to say to that. With a little smile on his lips he went back to the book until around noon Dean called.

It spoke for itself that Dean wanted to go home already and Sam figured as nice as the two orgasms in the morning had been, they hadn't been the best thing for his concussion. And Sam feeding on him of course. He hadn't taken much but hadn't been able to resist either.

He picked Dean up from the hospital who was sleeping with his head against the glass of the window again before they'd even left the parking lot.

Carefully Sam drove him home where he had to coax him awake far enough to get him back inside and on the couch.

Dean slept through the whole afternoon and only woke up when it was time for dinner. Sam had settled for canned food again. Dean complained about that but shut up when Sam threatened to actually cook the next day.

They had cleaned up and had made themselves comfy on the couch for a lazy evening in front of the TV, not that Sam expected Dean to be still awake for the first commercial break, when suddenly the front door burst open.

"Daddy's home!" A voice yelled down the hallway and like one Sam and Dean jumped to their feet.

"Shit." Sam muttered and wondered where the deputy was who should prevent something like this.

Then he saw John Winchester for the first time. The man was tall with broad shoulders, a scruff beard and insanity in his eyes.

When he noticed Sam, the man stopped dead in his tracks. He probably hadn't expected a visitor.

"Who're you?" He growled.

"None of your business." Sam straightened up to his full height and tried to sneak his hand in his pocket where he kept his phone.

"I don't think so." John raised his hand, gun pointing at them. "Hands where I can see."

If John had been aiming at Sam he would have went through with his plan to call 911 but the way John held the gun he could hit Dean as well and Sam just couldn't risk that. So he raised his hands and made a little step forward to get between John and Dean. He could only hope that Dean remembered the almost invincible part on his side and wouldn't try to play hero himself.

"Let me guess." John looked in disgust from Sam to Dean. "That's the new one you like up your ass."

"You know nothing about me." Dean answered in a low voice but Sam could feel him shaking.

"I'm your father, I raised you." John focused on Dean. "And how did you thank me? You ungrateful little brat?"

Sam knew where this was heading. John would spread his poison by telling Dean what a failure he was, how disappointed he was by his son and all that. Words that were meant to hurt and John knew exactly how to hurt Dean, he'd done it all his life. But that wouldn't be enough.

John would shoot Dean. Simple as that. He may claim afterwards that he hadn't meant to, that it had been an accident but truth be told, he was here to kill his son.

He didn't come back, risking to get caught again, just to have a little chat with Dean. Sam didn't know what John had done to the deputy outside but it didn't matter if the man was dead or just injured, John had crossed a line there. And he hadn't done that, risk so much, just to yell at his son and wield his gun.

No, he came here with the intention to kill Dean. And Sam couldn't let that happen.

John may be the one with the gun but he thought both his opponents were human and that was where he was wrong. Sam inched farther forward, trying to shield Dean with his body. Getting shot would suck and make things a little more complicated but that was it. He wasn't that easy to kill.

"Hey, hey." Suddenly John's attention was on him again. "What do you think you're doing? Playing hero? Wanna rescue your precious little fairy?"

The gun was now aimed directly at his chest just like Sam had hoped.

"You have one chance." Sam let his true nature bleed into his appearance. He may not have claws or sharp teeth but he was one of the things lurking in the dark that had made humanity huddle around the fire since the beginning of time. He was one of the things that woke primal fear in the heart of man.

"Run." He saw the exact moment when John realized that the thing coming for him wasn't human. Sadly, John Winchester was more of a fight than a flight type of man.

He fired the gun.

Sam felt the bullet hitting him in the left shoulder, it hurt but it didn't stop him. With a growl he was over John, hand closing around his throat and lifting him up. The man struggled in his grip, clawing at Sam's hand but he stood no chance against Sam.

"You had your chance." Sam growled and tightened his grip. He usually wasn't for killing humans. But this one deserved it.

"Sam." Suddenly Dean was at his side. "Don't."

Sam didn't want to hear him, he wanted to squash John like the insect he was, make him suffer for what he'd done to Dean.

"Sammy, please." Dean's hand was suddenly on his forearm. Their eyes met. "Let him go."

Sam shook his head, he didn't want to let him go, but Dean kept his eyes locked with him while he gently pressed down on Sam's arm. John with all his struggling wasn't able to break Sam's hold but Dean's gentle gesture was enough for Sam to let go. John dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping, while Sam took a step back. He still wanted to kill this man and if he stayed near him for too long he still might but for now he was done.

"Call the sheriff." Sam said without letting John out of his sight. He wasn't sure what the man would do next but he had no intention to let him escape again. At least this time they would put him behind bars for good. And if not, he would throw every deadly creature he knew in his path. John Winchester would never lay a hand on his son again. He wouldn't even be in the same state as Dean if Sam could prevent it.

Behind him he heard Dean speaking on the phone, telling the sheriff that John was here and that they should hurry.

Sam made the mistake to throw a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that Dean was okay.

John had still been on the ground, gasping for air like a fish on dry land, but the second Sam let him out of his sight, he darted forward to where his gun had fallen. Sam caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and his first reaction was to throw himself between John and Dean. Turned out John wasn't heading for Dean anyway. Still half-lying on the floor he aimed directly at Sam.

"Die, you freak!" He yelled followed by rapid gunfire. Sam felt the impacts, too many to count. Not feeling pain, or anything at all, he dropped to his knees. The gun still fired.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

He looked directly into the black hole of the muzzle. From the side Dean came into his line of view, he moved slowly like he was under water or maybe Sam was. He had something in his hands. A shotgun? Where did that come from?

Before Sam could figure it out, the black hole of the muzzle exploded right in front of his eyes. And everything went dark.

He couldn't see or hear and he wasn't even sure if he was conscious, probably not, not really, but he could feel. He was lifted up, dragged around, arms around him, something solid behind him. Dean?

"Please, Sammy." The words barely made it through the ringing in his ears. "You can't die, not now. Not like this."

Sam couldn't focus, his body was on fire and at the same time cold and numb. He didn't have much time.

"No ambulance." He tried to tell Dean but wasn't sure if he actually brought the words out. He tasted blood in the back of his throat and there was wetness beneath him. He was fading fast. The only thing making him cling to consciousness was Dean. Dean didn't know.

"Call Benny. Call Ben..." He choked on his own blood. He couldn't breathe anymore but at that point he didn't care anymore either. His heart stopped beating.


	46. Chapter 46

Dean had seen this Sam only once before. Sam, the Incubus. Sam, the monster. Sam who didn't even seem to notice the bullet in his shoulder.

Dean knew exactly what John was facing right now.

Sam lifted the other man up like he weighted nothing, hand around his throat, ready to snap his neck. Or to just slowly choke him to death. But Dean couldn't let that happen. It wasn't right.

"Sam, don't." He tried to get his attention but Sam ignored him. He laid his hand on Sam's arm, iron strands of muscle tight under his fingers, and looked him in the eye. "Sammy, please. Let him go."

Sam's eyes weren't human at all, old and cold they stared back at him but Dean stood his ground and didn't back off. Then, finally, there was something changing, as if Sam was waking up. He blinked at Dean in confusion but then let go of John who slumped to the floor in a heap. He was no danger anymore. Dean looked down at his father and felt nothing.

When Sam told him to call the sheriff, he did that but when he hung up he'd no idea what he'd just told her. John was here and she should come.

And then everything went south. Sam threw him a quick glance over his shoulder and Dean gave him a nod to indicate that he was fine and then John moved. He dove for his gun. The only thing Dean could think of was the shotgun Bobby kept at hand just in case but it was around the corner and by the time Dean reached it, he heard John yelling "Die, you freak!" and then there was gunfire. Dean sprinted back but could only watch in horror when John emptied the whole magazine into Sam.

"No!" Dean yelled and raised his own gun. They fired at almost the same time. John's chest exploded in red and so did Sam's face. Dean only wasted enough time on John to kick the gun out of his lifeless hand, not bothering to check if he was dead or not, before he dropped to his knees next to Sam. His shirt was soaking with blood, perforated by too many shots. The last one had hit him in the throat in an upward angle and the bullet had left his body just underneath his eye, leaving half his face a bloody mess.

"Sammy, no. Please, no." Dean dragged him into his lap, holding him tight. It was a miracle that he was still alive but deep down Dean knew that Sam was dying. There was no way he could survive this.

"Please, Sammy." He begged. "You can't die, not now. Not like this."

"No ...amb...bu...l'nce." He choked the words our with a gush of blood, reaching blindly for Dean. There was no point in calling an ambulance, Dean knew that. It was too late.

"Sammy." He buried his face in Sam's hair. Tears ran down his face freely while he just tried to will Sam to stay alive.

"C..call Benny." The words were almost lost in the choking but Dean heard them.

"Benny?"

"Call Ben..." Sam's voice broke and then he went still in Dean's arms.

"Sam?" Dean shook him. "Sammy!"

This couldn't be real. Sam couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

"No, no, no. Sam!" He shook him but there was no response.

He didn't know why he reached for the phone and called Benny's number. Sam had told him with his dying breath to call him, that was the only reason he could think of.

"Yeah?" Benny answered the phone.

"He shot Sammy." Dean almost couldn't bring the words out. "He...he..."

"Dean?" Benny asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Who shot Sam?"

"My dad." He still had Sam's lifeless body in his arms, he couldn't let go of him. "He shot him. Sam is dead."

"Dean, listen to me." Benny's voice pierced through the fog in his mind. "Did he shoot him with regular bullets?"

"What?"

"Dean, this is important. Did Sam got shot with regular bullets?" Benny repeated his question.

"Yes, of course." Confused Dean looked at the gun lying near by. "What else would he use?"

"Doesn't matter." Benny seemed relived by that. "Listen to me. Sam is not dead. Do you understand me? He is not dead."

"He lost a lot of blood." Dean couldn't look at how much blood there was. He was kneeling in it. "He got shot in the face. He isn't breathing."

"That doesn't matter." Benny insisted. "Bullets can't kill him. You hear me? They can't kill him. He needs time but he will come around. Dean, Sam is alive."

Dean wanted to believe him but he was holding Sam's dead body and that was hard to ignore.

"What do I do now?" _Tell me what to do._

"Is the police coming?"

"Yes." He could hear sirens in the distance. Sheriff Mills would be here very soon.

"They can't find him like this." Benny insisted. "You have to hide him."

"And then?"

"Then you wait." Benny said it as if it was obvious. "You know how you can help him coming around faster but given time he will heal on his own. But you have to hide him. Now."

Dean ended the call and wiped the tears from his face. He could do this.

He grabbed the blanket from the couch and draped it over Sam. It was easier when he didn't see the bloody mess. He rolled him into the blanket so that he wouldn't leave a trail of blood behind and then he lifted him up in his arms. It would have been easier if he'd just dragged him around but he couldn't do that, he just couldn't.

His arm protested at the heavy lifting but he gritted his teeth and carried Sam down into the basement. In the far corner he hid him like a dirty secret behind some old barrels. Then he sprinted back upstairs and dragged the rug over the spot where Sam had been shot just in time before Sheriff Mills burst through the door.

"Dean?" She asked after a quick look around. One of the deputies took John's gun and the shotgun, the other one was aiming at John. Dean still had no idea if the man was still alive. He was lying in a puddle of blood and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't breathing but at the moment he didn't care. The only thing he could think of was that John had lost enough blood to cover up Sam's.

"Dean, are you hurt?" The sheriff put her gun away and came closer, slowly and controlled, like Dean was a scared animal.

Why would she think he was hurt? Was he hurt? Confused he looked down at himself. He was covered in blood. Sam's blood.

"It's ..." He had to clear his throat. "That's not my blood. I'm okay."

She guided him over to the kitchen while her deputies did whatever they had to do in the study. Would they notice that something wasn't right? That was the question in Dean's mind. That and Sam wrapped in that blanket hidden in the basement.

"Where's Sam?"

"What?" Dean snapped out of his thoughts. Did she know? He felt his chest tighten but he couldn't go into a panic attack, not now. Sam needed him.

"Where is Sam?" She repeated her question. "Was he here with you?"

She didn't know. Dean breathed easier.

"He isn't here." He finally said while his mind raced to come up with a believable lie. "He needed to ... he wanted to come back tomorrow."

She nodded in understanding as if talking in half-sentences was normal.

"I could call him." She offered gently.

"No, no." Dean hurried to say but let her guide him over to a chair. They sat down. "I ... I'll call him later." Where was Sam's phone? If she called him now, would she hear it ringing in the house? He couldn't risk that.

"Okay." She eyed him closely as if she was debating if she should ask her questions or not. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Dean nodded.

_You can do this. Keep it simple, you can do this._

"He kicked in the door." Dean started. "He had a gun." He paused, weighting his words. "He yelled at me, said ... stuff. The same old shit." He sight. The last thing he wanted to do was to repeat the things John had said but Jody had been here the other day as well, had taken his statement later in the hospital, he was sure she knew the kind of things John had said.

"After last time I kept Bobby's shotgun in reach." He skipped the part where Sam had attacked John. Sam who now lay in the dark cold of the basement. If he'd just let Sam kill him ...

"You shot him?"

"Yes, he wanted to shoot me but I got him first." If this wasn't self-defense he didn't know what was.

"You did good." She took some notes.

"What happened to the deputy outside?" Dean suddenly remembered the man. He hadn't come in after the gunfire and he wasn't one of the men in the other room.

"He is dead." Jody said, biting her bottom lip. "Looks like John shot him."

"I didn't hear anything." Dean frowned at that. "The TV was on but still ..."

"We're not sure yet." Jody shook her head. "He may have used a silencer of some kind."

She paused, for a moment lost in her own thoughts.

"I want to have you checked out in the hospital." She finally said. "An ambulance is on the way, you should ride with them."

"No, I'm fine." Dean hurried to say. He couldn't leave, not now.

"I would feel better if you would let them check on you." She played the mom card. "And I know Bobby feels the same. Besides, you shouldn't be alone right now."

"I won't be. I'm going to call Sam as soon as this is all over." He made a gesture in the direction of the study. Judging by the voices coming from there the two deputies weren't alone any more.

"I can't make you." She stood up. "But I'd really feel better if you'd stay the night in the hospital. Don't underestimate shock."

"I'm fine." He insisted and he was. The one who wasn't fine was Sam but he could do squat while the house was crawling with deputies and paramedics and he was pretty sure the coroner was here as well. Jody didn't let him back into the study so he couldn't tell for sure, though.

The thing she could tell him was that John Winchester was dead.

Dean sat in his chair, while the world around him was spinning in hyper drive. John was dead. He had shot his own father. He knew he should feel something but he was just numb.

Shock, Jody pointed out when he told her.

Later, he didn't know how much later, one by one the people left the house. They took John with them and nobody asked where all the bullets went or why there was so much blood. They probably didn't look too closely, the case was pretty clear.

"You sure you want to stay here alone?" Jody was the only one left. "You could come over to my place." She offered.

"Thank you but I'd like to be alone for the moment. I'm going to call Sam in a bit."

"Just call me if you need something. Anything, anytime."

"I will." He promised and then she finally left. He forced himself to stay in his chair for another five minutes, just to make sure, before he rushed back into the basement.

Sam hadn't moved and he didn't look any better. Later Dean couldn't tell how but he heaved Sam upstairs to the guest room. He cut off the ruined clothes and washed away the blood. Sam's skin was cold and clammy and the holes in his chest looked awful.

Dean tucked him in, blanket up to his chin and head resting a bit to the side so he didn't have to constantly look at the crater there. Sam still hadn't moved. He still wasn't breathing either.

Dean stood at the side of the bed, not sure what to do next.

"Don't make me jerk off over your dead body." He pleaded.


	47. Chapter 47

Sam acted on instinct. He latched himself at the spark in the darkness. It wasn't enough, far from enough but it helped.

He gained consciousness again, at least enough to know what was happening to his body and he hated it. He wasn't there enough to see or hear anything around him, he was the most vulnerable like this, helpless and not even knowing if whatever had caused this was still out there, maybe now armed with something that could actually kill him. Or he got buried again. Nothing worse than waking up in your own coffin.

He couldn't do anything than to lay there, waiting for his body to heal itself. Slowly things came back to him. Dean. Where was he? Was he alright? And John? His memories were fuzzy and he drifted more one the unconscious side of his mind and he only broke the surface for a moment or two before he sank back into darkness.

_I hate this_ , he thought while he drifted in and out.

"Sammy?" A voice pierced through his mind. "Come back to me. Please."

There was a hand on his face, he could feel it. Everything else still felt strange, as if his body wasn't his at the moment. He felt a distant throbbing and maybe it was better that he didn't really feel anything at the moment.

Then there were lips on his. Just a brush so light it could just have been his imagination. There it was again. And with it something, feeding him. He sucked in a breath.

"Sam?" Dean perked up and Sam could feel emotions coming from him. Not quite arousal, not quite what he needed, but there was something. Enough to take in another breath. His chest screamed in agony and he choked back a scream. Not that he could actually scream just yet. But he was getting there.

_Joy_ , he thought bitterly but he had to go through this. At least Dean was there and as far as he could tell, which wasn't that much, he was fine.

"The things I do for you." He heard Dean muttering very close by. Then his lips were on Sam's again and this time Dean's tongue darted out, slipping in between his teeth. "You know, necrophilia is so not my thing. And you could really help by working up some of your saliva stuff."

Sam didn't really understand what Dean was saying, the words just echoed through his mind but now there was more coming from Dean. Not much, just a trickle, but it was more like the right stuff now. Sam took another breath.

"At least you're breathing." Dean commented and Sam didn't have to open his eyes to know what kind of expression he would find on Dean's face, annoyed amusement. Their next kiss lasted longer, if you could actually call it a kiss. Dean was licking out his mouth while Sam lay slack under him, jaw held open by Dean's hand and his own tongue a dead fish that got shoved around by the movement of Dean's tongue. So not sexy.

However, the little of Sam's aphrodisiac Dean got that way sparked up his arousal. It was a beacon in the night and Sam jumped at it. It wasn't a conscious decision, he was a starving man and there was food in reach and he just reacted.

"Dean." His throat wasn't working right but he needed to let Dean know that he was there.

"Sammy?"

Sam worked his eyes open and then Dean's face filled his vision. Only for a second, then he lost the fight against his lead-heavy eyelids.

"Don't stop." What Dean had offered so far was a drop in the ocean, he needed more. So much more.

"Are you sure?" Dean hesitated, one hand still on Sam's face but the other half felt strange. Was he hurt there, too?

"Please." He forced the word though his battered throat. Healing was agony, he knew that. It was like fire in his veins until his wounds had finally healed enough to not hurt anymore. But if he could feed ...

"Okay." Dean's lips brushed over his again and then there was a moment of coldness and air all over his body but that as quickly replaced by Dean, slipping into bed next to him.

"You know, this is fucked up, right?" Dean muttered but Sam drifted off again. Here the pain was too much, darkness was easier. And with Dean next to him nobody would hurt him while he was out.

The next time he woke up, he woke up for real. He blinked his eyes open, he could breathe and swallow without pain and his body wasn't on fire anymore. He wasn't completely healed but he felt good for now.

Only then he noticed that he wasn't alone in bed. Dean was sleeping next to him, one hand on Sam's chest as if he needed to make sure that Sam was breathing.

The sun was shining through the window so it was daytime but Sam couldn't tell the time or even the day. He could have been out for a few hours or a few days, he couldn't tell.

He remembered John shooting him several times. Under normal circumstances it would take him a few days to recover as far as he had by now but he didn't know what Dean had done to help him out. How far had he been willing to go with Sam's lifeless and terrible wounded body under him.

Sam was content with just lying there, letting his body do the work. Not that he could actually do anything just yet.

Dean was out like a light so he probably had done at least something to help Sam out. Sam remembered feeding at least he thought he did.

But he was still hungry. God, was he hungry.

"Dean." He hated that he had to wake Dean but the hunger as awake now, a roaring beast in his mind and if he didn't get Dean to participate or to leave the room he would just jump him. He had only enough self-control left to not do that right then but he was fighting a losing fight here. He wasn't sure if he could even move to do anything but for sure he would try.

"Dean, wake up." His face felt strange when he spoke but he ignored it for the moment. "Dean, please wake up." The words came out hoarse as if he'd been screaming, which might be true, he didn't know, and his throat felt like he'd been breathing shredded glass.

"Hmm" Dean made when he finally started to stir. Then he shot upright. "Sam?" Wide awake from one second to the other his eyes were instantly on Sam who couldn't help but smile at that.

"Yeah." He made, not sure what to say next.

"Your face looks better." Dean observed.

"Says the one with the shiner and the split lip." Sam countered and bit his lip to gain control over himself again. He was hungry and Dean was there.

"How do you feel?" Dean's voice softened.

"Hungry." He licked his lips and screwed his eyes shut while he forced his body to lay still. "I can't ... do something or leave the room. I can't ... I don't want to hurt you." He was panting now.

"You won't." Dean's face was suddenly very close. "You'll feel better in a minute."

He brought their mouths together and the second he tasted Sam's saliva he lit up like fireworks.

"Dean." Sam couldn't hold back anymore. Without breaking the kiss he fumbled under the blanket until he had his hand around Dean's dick. Why they were both naked Sam didn't know, he was just grateful for the easy access. Dean's cock in his hand wasn't even half-hard but he didn't care. He jacked him in a brutal pace, fast and dirty. It had to be borderline on to too much, too fast but Dean just dropped to his back and let Sam do whatever he wanted. And Sam did get waves of pleasure from Dean so it couldn't be too bad. However, it was far from perfect. He knew he could get more from Dean but for that he would need patience he didn't have right now.

"Sam!" Dean arched his back and spilled his release all over Sam's hand. The come added slick to the strokes while Sam worked him through the aftershocks. But he didn't stop there. He needed more.

"Sam." Dean gritted his teeth and was now squirming under Sam's hold. Sam just placed his other hand on his hip to hold him down while he never stopped working Dean.

"It's too much. I can't ..." Dean lost the ability to speak, he was reduced to a bubbling mess at Sam's mercy. Dean came crying a second time not much later. The waves of pleasure were now much weaker. Not good, Sam needed more.

"Sam, please." He begged, cock twitching in Sam's hand. Sam gave it a few more strokes before he let go.

They both lay there for a moment, trying to catch their breath.

"You okay?" Sam finally asked but didn't dare to turn his head to have a look at Dean.

"I'm good." Dean swallowed thickly. "Just give me a minute."

Sam had a minute. The hunger was still roaring in his mind, this had barely taken the edge off, but if he didn't give Dean a moment to recover, he could kill him with this. If he didn't control himself, Sam could kill him with the sex and the feeding. Other men had died happily in his arms before.

"I need more." Sam said.

"I know." Dean propped himself up on one elbow. "Your face is healing."

Sam probed his face with his fingertips. The wound was scraped over but still raw.

"What happened?"

"He shot you." Dean answered and leaned in for a kiss. "You looked like Swiss cheese." His voice broke and Sam could only imagine what he'd been through while Sam had been out. "I thought you were dead."

He rested his head in the crook of Sam's neck, sobbing, and Sam felt hot tears on his skin.

"I don't die this easily." He closed his arms around Dean's trembling form. "I'm fine. I'm here. I won't go anywhere."

They held on to each other for a while but Sam couldn't stand it for long. He felt Dean's soft cock pressed against his hip. Shifting a little he gave it some friction.

"You have a one tracked mind, you know that?" Dean lifted his head to look him in the eye. Sam read amusement in them but also warmth and love.

"Fuck me." Sam snagged a kiss. His own cock lay hard and aching on his stomach but that was the last he cared about at the moment. He needed Dean in pleasure. Preferable for the next few hours.

"Okay." Dean turned a little and almost fell out of the bed when he tried to get the lube from the nightstand. How they even fit in this small bed was beyond Sam but he didn't want Dean to be even an inch away.

"I'm warning you if I chafe from this, I'm totally blaming you. Poor little Dean." He muttered.

"I'm sorry." He really was. He shouldn't have been so rough with Dean.

"Don't be." He kissed him once again and then threw away the blanket to settle between Sam's legs. Looking down on himself Sam saw the damage for the first time. And this was the partly healed version.

"Did he have a machine gun?"

"He emptied almost the whole clip into you." Dean's face became hard. "But you look better now."

If this was better Sam didn't want to know how worse it had been.

"It's going to heal." Sam assured him.

"I'm working on it." Dean gave him a grin and then a lubed finger found its way to his entrance. Sam laid back and let Dean take care of him.


	48. Chapter 48

"Dean?" Sam said and shook his shoulder. "C'mon, baby. Wake up."

"Five minutes." Dean mumbled and drew the blanket over his head.

"You said the same five minutes ago." Sam answered and he sounded way too cheerful this early in the morning. Was it morning? Dean frowned but decided that he didn't care. He wanted to sleep, just for a little while longer.

"Sheriff Mills is going to arrest me for killing you and burying your body somewhere in the yard under an old car wreck if you don't show your face soon." Sam almost whined. "And Bobby is going to kill me if I show up alone to pick him up. Dean." He drew out Dean's name like a whiny five-year-old.

"Bobby's coming home?" Dean peeked out from under the blanket, not sure yet if this was worth waking up for.

"He called this morning." Sam confirmed. "He wasn't happy when he heard you were sleeping. Again."

Confused Dean sat up. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed and apparently fully healed as well.

"How long have I been out?" Dean asked. He still felt the lingering tiredness of Sam's feeding deep in his bones. Even in the beginning of their arrangement when he hadn't been used to this he had never felt this tired.

"Over two days." Sam said. "Sorry, I really sucked you dry this time."

The memory of that came back to Dean.

"Good times." He smiled to himself, that had been the best marathon sex ever. "How do you feel?" Sam looked good but that didn't have to mean anything.

"I'm fine. How about you?"

Dean considered the question for a moment. He felt bone-deep tired and his body was aching like he'd run a marathon the other day, which he kinda had, but otherwise he was fine. His headache was gone, too.

"My arm's throbbing a bit." He finally said. "But I had to carry your sorry ass around the house so I know where that's coming from." He dropped back into the pillow. Sleep was gone for now but he was content with just lying here, warm and cozy.

"I have your painkillers here." Sam offered.

Dean took the pills and washed them down with a glass of water.

"I'm sorry." Sam said.

"Don't be." Dean caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze. "You saved my life and almost payed with yours for that."

"It hurts like hell." Sam admitted. "But bullets can't kill me. Not regular ones anyway."

"Yeah, Benny said something like that." Dean wondered if Sam had spoken to the vampire lately or if he should call him to tell him that Sam was fine.

"I'm an incubus." Sam said. "There is only one way to kill me." He reached for something out of Dean's view and came up with some kind of antique dagger.

"What's that?" Dean asked when Sam just held it in his lose hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"A bronze dagger." He finally answered. "Bronze through the heart, that's the only way to kill me." He stretched out his hand. "I want you to have it."

Dean's mouth went dry.

"You sure?" He eyed the dagger on Sam's open palm. What Sam was offering him here ...

"I said I want to be with you in an equal relationship." Sam said, hand still steady, offering the dagger. "I'm stronger than you and I need to feed on you. It's only fair that you know my weak point and have a weapon against me."

"It's not that the feeding is a bad thing on my part." Dean said and took the dagger. He had no intention to use it, not ever, but he knew what Sam was offering here. He brought their mouth together for a chaste kiss with closed lips. No matter how much he'd love to do more, his body was too wrung out to even consider sex at the moment.

"Thank you." Dean said and put the dagger on the nightstand.

After that Sam left him alone to grab a shower, according to Sam he stank like week old roadkill, and when he came downstairs, freshly showered and shaven, Sam had coffee ready for him.

"When do we have to pick up Bobby?" Dean asked around half a slice of toast. He hadn't eaten in how long? And with Sam sucking all the energy out of him, he needed to replace some calories.

"Around four." Sam answered, an amused eye on Dean. "His doctor would like to keep him for a day or two longer but with you being out of commission for the last two days he was ready to make a break for it with or without the doctor's permission. He thinks I keep you chained up in the basement or something."

Dean nodded to that. They still needed to set that one straight.

"And what was that about Jody?" Dean recalled that bit.

"She wants you to come in for an official statement." Sam answered with a sigh. "And she's just worried about you. I had to let her in to sneak a peek on you just to convince her that you were sleeping and not suffering from what has happened." He paused at that an Dean knew what was coming next.

"I'm fine." He insisted before Sam could ask the question. "I shot my dad and I'm fine."

He had been busy worrying about Sam so now was the first time that fact really sunk in. He had shot his dad. He didn't have a choice, it had been self-defense but that didn't change the fact that he'd pointed a shotgun at his father and had pulled the trigger.

"I'm glad that bastard is dead." He finally said, eyes fixed on the coffee in his cup.

"Have you killed before?" Sam asked gently.

"No." Dean shook his head, tears suddenly burning in his eyes. John had been his father after all. "But I don't regret it. He hurt you. He hurt Bobby." He paused. "He hurt me."

Suddenly Sam was at his side, strong arms around him.

"He won't hurt you ever again." Sam said. "You stopped him."

They sat like that for a moment and Dean thought about kissing Sam, just because he could, when the phone rang.

"You answer it." Sam said with a glare at the phone. "It's either the sheriff or Bobby and neither wants to talk to me."

It was Jody, asking how he was and if he felt up to coming in for his statement. They still had time before they had to pick up Bobby so Dean agreed to coming in right away.

"I'm driving." Sam snagged the keys when Dean reached for them.

"It's my car." Dean insisted. "And the concussion had cleared off. I'm fine." He considered jumping for the keys but Sam held them out of reach easily with his freakish long arms.

"We'll see." Sam said. "Maybe you can drive us back from the hospital."

Grumbling Dean let him have his way but he was planning his revenge. At least Sam drove her with respect and care so Dean hadn't much to complain about him driving. Except for the fact that he was driving, of course.

If he was honest, he was a little nervous about his statement, what if they'd found out that his version wasn't quite true?

Turned out he was worried for nothing. In the end, Jody just wrote down what he told her and didn't bat an eye at his story.

"You had no other choice, Dean." She assured him.

The funeral would be in two days, the coroner was already done with his report which went along with Dean's version so the case was closed.

"I'm not going to the funeral." Dean said right away and Jody didn't seem to be surprised. Once again she asked him how he was dealing, shooting somebody was a big deal after all and he wondered how often he would hear that question in the near future. He assured her that he was fine and that he had Sam to watch out for him. She gave him a hug and told him to call.

"That went easier than I thought." Dean said to Sam when they left the department.

"The first time you lied to the police?" Sam asked. When Dean gave him a look he raised his arms in a defensive manner. "What? I can hardly tell them the truth."

He had a point there.

"Keys." Dean held his hand out when they reached the car and this time Sam handed them over without complaining. Looked like Dean had proven that he was fully there again. "Okay, let's pick up Bobby before he hot-wires a car."

"What are you going to tell him?" Sam asked and Dean knew that he wasn't talking about what had happened with John. Not only.

"Hell, if I know." He shook his head. Telling Bobby about Sam buying him had been the stupidest idea ever. Now Sam was some rich pervert who just kept Dean around for random sex. And because he was such a nice guy he kept Dean on a long leash.

"What do you want?" Sam continued. "With us, I mean. If you want to stop this, you don't have to do anything with Bobby."

Dean felt the insecurity behind those words. Sam was asking him where they wanted to go from here and Dean knew that Sam would accept the decision Dean would make. He probably wouldn't like it but he would accept it.

"I haven't changed my mind. I want us." Dean said without a second of hesitation. "When you go home, I'm coming with you."

Sam didn't say anything to that, he just nodded and out of the corner of his eye Dean notice him blinking a little too often.

They reached the hospital and Sam offered to stay behind but Dean had nothing of that.

"It's you and me now." Dean reminded him. "He just has to deal with it. And hey, once he gets to know you better ..."

Sam didn't look optimistic at that but he followed Dean inside.

The deputies in front of the room were gone, with John dead there was no need for them here anymore. Dean knocked but didn't wait for an answer before he strolled in.

"Dean." Bobby greeted him before he was even through the door. Behind him he felt Sam hesitating and for a second Dean was sure that Sam would just turn and leave. So he grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him inside.

"And Sam." Bobby's voice dropped to a grumble.

"Hi." Sam said and just parked himself near the door. He didn't know Bobby, the only reason he was here was because Bobby was like a father to him, Dean got that and he just loved Sam even more for it.

Bobby sat fully clothed on the edge of his bed. He was still a little too pale but his eyes were awake, darting back and forth between his two visitors.

"Ready to go home?" Dean asked. Bobby had already packed, his bag was sitting at the end of the bed and he was only waiting for the last forms to fill out.

Dean drove them home. His wrist didn't bother him much and he would have actually enjoyed the ride if it hadn't been for his passengers.

There was a frosty silence in the car which Dean didn't like, not one bit. Sam had tried to start a conversation once or twice but had given up by now.

The same uncomfortable silence lay over their dinner table later. Bobby hadn't been amused when Dean had announced that Sam would stay with them until they drove home and of course Sam had immediately offered to stay in a hotel for a few days.

There was nothing Dean could say or do to convince Bobby that Sam wasn't the monster he thought him to be, his only hope was that over time the older man would accept Sam.

"Bobby." Dean said when he caught the other man alone. "Sam is not John 2.0, I know what I'm doing here. Just trust me on this, okay?"

Bobby studied him for a long moment before he gave him a slow nod. "My door is always open for you and I have a shotgun, just in case."

"I know."


	49. Chapter 49

**One year later**

Sam came home from work and parked his car next to the Impala. Looked like Dean was already back from his monthly trip to the scrap yards of the city. By now the owners knew Dean and knew what he was looking for so they had quite some stuff ready for him but Dean liked to stroll over the yards by himself just to have a look around and see which piece sparked his interest.

It was raining today, maybe that was the reason Dean was home early, Sam mused. He went around the basement to see if Dean was working but he wasn't down here.

Over the last year the basement had completely changed. All the old stuff was out and Dean had set up different work stations for the different steps of building his cars. One room alone was stuffed to the ceiling with shelves full of raw material.

Dean had even turned one of the larger storage rooms into a showroom with light installments and glass showcases. Twice a week he let customers in to have a look at the cars he'd built just for fun. And only because Sam had complained about too many cars in the bedroom. And in the living room. And in the kitchen. Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he'd found one in the fridge. In the end Dean had every horizontal surface claimed for his cars.

"I don't have enough room for them in the basement." Dean pointed out when he put his latest creation on the side table where Sam used to have his magazines.

"You could always sell them. You don't have to stick to custom-made only." Sam put the magazines back on the table but after one look at Dean he set the car on top of it. Looked like he had a new paper weight.

A week later Dean had an announcement in the papers for an open house presentation. Things kinda developed from there.

By now Dean had repaid everything Sam had loaned him and he was paying his fair share for their living.

In hope for some dinner, if Dean had been home early there might be dinner waiting for him, Sam stepped into the elevator. Upstairs not much had changed. They shared the bedroom and Dean's former room was now once again the guest room. So far the only gust had been Bobby but Sam was happy that the older man came for a visit once in a while and slowly they were warming up to each other. It helped that Dean didn't sport any bruises and that Sam wasn't constantly hovering in the background to have an eye on Dean. He was a grown man, Dean could decide for himself who he was seeing and what he was telling them. Not that he'd ever told Bobby about the supernatural, though.

"Dinner's ready in five." Dean greeted him with a grin and a kiss. "Steak and baked potatoes." Dean gestured at the oven. "Hope you're hungry."

"I'm starving." Sam answered but he was only talking about actual food. As for the other thing, let's just say, Dean didn't let him go hungry for long.

He sneaked up behind Dean and slung his arms around the other man's waist.

"If I ruin the steaks because you distract me, you will regret it." Dean growled but didn't make an attempt to break free of Sam's hold.

"I could distract you later." Sam suggested and nibbled at Dean's earlobe.

"You're a bottomless pit, you know that, right?" Dean shook his head.

"You're spoiling me." Sam shrugged.

They had dinner with perfect steaks and a glass of wine while they told each other about their day. Dean had made it a quick tour to the scrap yards due to the rain like Sam had guessed but he had found two really nice pieces which would be perfect for the cars he had in mind.

Sam's day had been rather boring but Dean listened with interest anyway. Sam had the suspicion that Dean just liked the sound of his voice, though.

It was a rather cold and rainy evening so they huddled up on the couch with a movie and a few beers.

Out of the blue Dean took away his beer and put the bottles on the table.

"Dean?"

Dean studied his face for a long moment, he was so close Sam felt his breath brushing over his skin.

"How do I deserve you?" Dean asked with a concentrated expression but before Sam could come up with an answer he brought their lips together. Dean buried both hands in Sam's hair and just kissed him, deep and slow. Sam opened his mouth willingly and let Dean in. Dean kissing him like this always led to more, otherwise Dean would sport an annoying hard-on for hours, but for now this was just about kissing.

Dean sucked at his tongue and licked along the inside of Sam's bottom lip.

When they parted, Dean's pupils were blown wide and Sam was bathing in waves of pleasure coming from him.

Dean's hands slipped under Sam's shirt and getting the hint Sam lifted his arms and then the shirt fell to the floor. Next where his pants. Slowly, piece by piece Dean undressed him while Dean himself hadn't lost one piece of clothing.

"How do you want me?" Sam asked into another kiss, Dean's hands roaming over his skin. Abandoning his mouth Dean dropped down to Sam's right nipple. Sam arched his back to give him better access while he felt Dean's hands wandering down his back until they were kneading his ass. Gently Dean bit down on the nipple before he blew over the pebbled flesh, making Sam shiver. Then he did the same with the other one.

"I want you to ride me." Dean looked him in the eye while his fingers found their way to his most private part. "I want you to take my dick out and ride me." He got a bottle of lube out of his pocket.

 _Somebody's prepared_ , Sam thought.

"No prep." Dean handed him the lube. "Just slick me up and sit down."

With that he leaned back, still fully clothed while Sam was stark naked, fully expecting Sam to do as he was told.

Sam's throat was dry and he had to swallow to get some moisture back while he reached for Dean's fly. His own erection stood proud and leaking but that had to wait. First he had to take care of Dean.

He got in position with his back to Dean and just like Dean had instructed he sank down on him inch by inch in one slow move.

He never needed much prep but at first the stretch was overwhelming. Mouth open in a silent cry he didn't stop until he was fully seated in Dean's lap. Catching his breath he just stayed there for a moment.

"Move." Dean ordered and Sam rolled his hips, grinding down on him, and for a moment they both were lost in the sensation. He didn't touch himself, only focused on Dean's pleasure for now.

"Fuck yourself." Dean panted out and Sam didn't have to be told twice. He rose all the way up until only the tip of Dean's cock was still breaching the tight ring of muscles and then slammed down again. He repeated that, almost agonizingly slow up and with a wham down. Then he picked up speed, riding Dean for real.

Then, finally, Dean's hand closed around his cock and it took only a few rough strokes for Sam to arch his back, crying out his orgasm. Losing his rhythm he clamped down around Dean, muscles spasming and with that Dean was gone as well.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, Dean's hand firmly on his chest, holding him close.

"The things you do to me." Sam shook his head and climbed off Dean's lap. Dean offered him a towel, the bastard had this planned. Not that Sam was complaining.

"You love it." Dean gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks. Thanks your joining me on this ride and for all the support, you're awesome.  
> I know I didn't really solve the Bobby issue but it didn't fit in this story. I am thinking about a more Bobby-centric sequel, though. But first I have to finish my current stories.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Untitled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543730) by [ladeeeeda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladeeeeda/pseuds/ladeeeeda)
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